


Shamrock Shenron 2021

by dbzkink



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alien Sex, Anal Sex, Beer, Claiming, Claiming Bites, Crossdressing, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, Drunkenness, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Gay Sex, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mating, Mating Bites, Prompt Fic, Romance, Shameless Smut, Smut, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29983497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbzkink/pseuds/dbzkink
Summary: A collection of one shots for Shenron's Dungeon's Shamrock Shenron Prompts. I'll add tags and info as the days pass and summaries of individual stories will be in each chapter. The day, prompts, ship, and title I'll list below.March 11, Day 1: Beer-soaked/Celebrate--Piccolo/Vegeta--All that GlittersMarch 12, Day 2: Lucky/Green--Piccolo/Vegeta--Green LuckMarch 13, Day 3: Coin/Gold--Trunks/Goten--Returns on InvestmentMarch 14, Day 4: Emerald/Rainbow--Piccolo/Vegeta--Somewhere Under the RainbowMarch 15, Day 5: Tradition/Heritage--Piccolo/Vegeta--New TraditionsMarch 16, Day 6: Blarney/Lucky Charms--Trunks/Goten--Perfect SweetnessMarch 17, Day 7: Clover/Spring--March 18, Bonus Day: Magic, Mischief, Mayhem--
Relationships: Piccolo/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Trunks Briefs/Son Goten
Comments: 43
Kudos: 20
Collections: Shamrock Shenron





	1. All that Glitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta and Bulma split years ago and Bulma and Bulla decide that Vegeta needs to get laid and that a big, drunken St. Patrick's Day party is just the place to find something lucky and green.

“Maybe you should just watch where the fuck—“ Vegeta’s voice died in his throat when he spun and saw the behemoth that he’d bumped into because of the unsavory crush of fragile human bodies.

His mouth went dry and his eyes traveled helplessly up the full length of the green body in front of him. “Hey, Vegeta,” Piccolo said, and it sounded…mushy, “What’re you saying? Hmmm? ‘Cause I think you ran into _me._ ”

Piccolo wore tiny, tight, _sparkly_ black shorts. He had on a little gold vest, also sparkly, and his nipples had glittery green shamrocks as pasties. The man, as if to just flaunt his ridiculous height even more, was wearing black high-heels with a strap across the arch of his foot. His calves looked sculpted from malachite. His legs were so, so, so long. His package was essentially in Vegeta’s face. Except that Vegeta was wearing heels too. Piccolo had a spray of gold glitter on his cheeks and his skull, dark black kohl outlined his eyes. Metallic gold make-up echoed the kohl, a little curl reaching out toward his temple. Heavy gauge gold rings hung in each ear. Pale, gold, extra-fine glitter coated his lips

Vegeta stammered, “I…You…What…How…I…”

“I’m doing well, and you, Vegeta?” Piccolo said, chuckling, and bumped Vegeta’s shoulder with his hip.

“What…what are _you_ doing here?” Vegeta said. He hadn’t anticipated running into anyone he knew. Vegeta was “dolled up,” as Bulma called it. This was all her doing, not just how he looked, but the fact that he was out at all. Vegeta wore a glittery green mini-dress, barely covering his balls it was so short. His ass looked fantastic, but it was too crowded for anyone to be able to see his best feature because he was so fucking short. Vegeta had fake, sparkly shamrocks braided into his hair sweeping back from his temples, thanks to Bulla’s hair skills, and he too had a fair amount of gold glitter on his face and shoulders and cleavage. Bulla had done his eye makeup, and he looked rather dramatic all purples and golds and sparkly black.

Vegeta was here, at a big St. Patrick’s Day celebration (one of the more confusing Earth holidays, he simply didn’t understand _what_ anyone was celebrating, but he had come to the conclusion that they were celebrating general drunkenness and debauchery, possibly the color green) at what Bulma termed a “gay bar.” But he didn’t know what that was either until Bulla and Bulma explained. He always forgot, even after all these years, how rigid Earth could be about the silliest things. He was at this bar because his family had concluded he was grumpy about not getting laid. They weren’t wrong, of course, he just didn’t like that they knew.

Piccolo shouted jovially at the bartender, who saw him easily as he towered over even the tall men in the crowd. Piccolo held up two fingers and pointed to the green beer in his hand. The man nodded and winked at Piccolo. Vegeta didn’t know why, but the wink pissed him off. Really pissed him off. Piccolo grinned and said, “On my tab. Thanks, handsome!”

Now Vegeta couldn’t even stifle his jealousy, because there was no denying that was what he felt watching the big Namek turn that sexy fanged smile on the damned _human_. The human would never be able to satisfy a creature like Piccolo. Vegeta, ever since he arrived on Earth, had had a bit of a thing for Piccolo. Bulma loved to tease him, but he’d never done anything about it. In part that was because no one seemed to know whether Piccolo gave a shit about anything sexual. The big man was an enigma. A sexy enigma.

He grabbed the beers, the three pints looking like shot glasses in his big hands, and he _winked_ _back_. In-fucking-sufferable. Vegeta ground his teeth. He never imagined seeing the Namek here, of all places. He had been contemplating making a play for Piccolo ever since he and Bulma split a couple years earlier, but he hadn’t known how to go about it. It felt…fortuitous that he should be here, that he should run into Vegeta…until he winked at a human. A fucking _tall_ human, of course.

Piccolo handed him a beer and said, “I’m here being gay and trying to find someone to fuck, Vegeta. You are the bigger mystery in this situation. Did Bulma just send you here as a little joke? Do you know where you are?”

Piccolo gulped some beer. More beer. He finished the three-quarters full pint he’d had when Vegeta ran into him. If Piccolo was looking for someone to fuck, Vegeta wanted to be the someone. Vegeta said, “You look great.” He immediately regretted it. No subtlety. No flirtation. He might as well have asked if Piccolo wanted to fuck.

But Piccolo’s eyes widened and a sweet purple tinge bloomed across his cheeks. “W-what did you say?” Piccolo spluttered.

“I said, you look fantastic,” Vegeta said more loudly to be heard over music that sounded like a bunch of angry Irish people screaming as they played instruments they’d just picked up at random. Vegeta decided to just go all in on his attraction to Piccolo. The man was soaked through with beer and Vegeta imagined another opportunity such as this wouldn’t come along.

Piccolo’s head cocked to the side and he narrowed his eyes. He clinked his glass with Vegeta’s and said, “Bottoms up, little Saiyan.”

Vegeta’s alcohol tolerance was complete shit, so he knew it would probably be a mess in short order, but Bulma told him to get as drunk as he wanted, that she or Bulla or Trunks or Goten would come pick him up if he was too drunk to fly. He still lived at Capsule Corp, though he basically had his own little apartment.

He dumped the beer quickly down his throat and Piccolo’s eyes widened again as he finished drinking his more slowly. “Wow,” Piccolo gasped out, “You really put that away, Vegeta.”

“I can completely relax my throat muscles so I can literally pour it into my stomach.” Vegeta meant nothing other than what he said, but the moment the words were out in the world, he realized the other potential…ramifications…of his pronouncement.

Piccolo’s lips rolled in and the big man started to _giggle_. Vegeta couldn’t help but laugh in turn. He pointed up at Piccolo and said, “Naughty, naughty little leprechaun.”

“Oh, Vegeta, I’m not little anywhere,” Piccolo wheezed out.

“You impertinent shit, are you suggesting I have a small cock?”

“I mean, you are very smol,” Piccolo said, still tittering a bit as he held up two fingers at the bartender again. The bartender couldn’t even see Vegeta, in all likelihood, so he probably thought Piccolo was fair game. 

“Do I need to fucking whip it out to disabuse you of this small-prick notion?”

“I feel more like I should whip mine out to test the whole ‘completely relaxed throat’ claim,” Piccolo said and boldly trailed a claw from Vegeta’s lower lip, over his chin, and down his throat. Piccolo’s eyes glittered in the dim light. His smirk was so sexy that Vegeta strongly considered kissing it off his face.

But before he could react, Piccolo leaned to get his two beers. He handed another to Vegeta. Someone stumbled into Vegeta from behind. It pushed Vegeta’s whole body flush against Piccolo’s bare legs and his face was at the bottom of his pecs. If he tiptoed a bit, he could probably pull Piccolo’s pasties off with his teeth. He wondered what Piccolo would do if he nibbled on him a bit.

Piccolo grinned. “Hey, Vegeta, how’s the view down there?”

“Lovely, if I’m being honest,” Vegeta muttered against Piccolo’s skin. Piccolo awkwardly handed him a beer and he turned to the side to put it to his lips. “I’m going to be a beer-soaked Saiyan if you keep up this pace.”

“I kinda like the idea of getting you drunk, Vegeta,” Piccolo said. Slurred, really. “Plus, you have to catch up. I’m already about three beers ahead of you. Because you looked stone cold sober when I found you.”

“You’re working with quite a lot more mass and likely better tolerance. I’m a cheap date,” Vegeta said. He took a long pull of beer, half-emptying the pint, and rested his chin to stare up at Piccolo.

Piccolo peered down at him with a half-smile and said, “I’m tempted to get us a pitcher so we can go outside. I haven’t even gotten a look at you in your sexy little dress.”

“It is _very_ little. You might see more than you bargain for if you walk behind me.” 

Piccolo grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Well now I’m definitely getting a pitcher.” He gestured at the bartender and a few loud minutes later he had a giant pitcher of green beer. He downed his current beer and stacked the glass under Vegeta’s. “You carry our glasses, I’ll make a path.”

“What—“ Vegeta started to speak, but Piccolo stooped and slid his fiery hand into Vegeta’s, the heat of it making Vegeta’s words evaporate. Piccolo laced their fingers together and rose back up to his full height. People moved out of his way because of his presence, like they had to step back to stare up at him.

Then they were out in the big courtyard lit with strings of shamrock-shaped paper lanterns and several widely dispersed fire-pits. There were still a lot of people outside, but nothing like inside the bar. Vegeta expected Piccolo to release his hand once they were through the throng, but he didn’t. He made a beeline for a couple chairs with a low table between them right next to a blazing fire. 

Someone snagged one of the chairs before they reached them. Vegeta was about to complain, but Piccolo plopped into the other, somehow managing not spilling a drop of beer from the pitcher. He spun Vegeta around in front of him, like a dancer, made an appreciative growling noise, and hoisted Vegeta astride his lap. Piccolo smirked and set the pitcher on the table beside them, giving the chair thief a warning look when he moved to set his glass down.

Vegeta’s eyebrows shot into his widow’s peak. He didn’t anticipate any of this, and everything was going rather fast. Vegeta hadn’t been with anyone in years, but it was obvious that Piccolo knew how to pick someone up. He was hard to resist with his dark, half-lidded eyes, his sexy smirk with one fang peeking out, and the body on him, of course. That body haunted Vegeta’s dreams.

Piccolo slumped into the big chair, leaning back so he could see Vegeta more easily. His head dropped off to the side again. His eyes roamed unabashedly over Vegeta. He cupped his chin in his hand and said, “I’m drunk, Vegeta.”

“Yes, it would seem so, since I’m in your lap. But maybe that’s just the dress.”

“Maybe. But not really. Where’s Bulma? Does she know you’re here?”

“Why would she care? But yes. She’s the one who helped me get all ‘tarted up’ or whatever she calls this,” Vegeta said and rested one hand behind him on Piccolo’s thigh while he tipped the rest of his beer down his throat. He handed Piccolo his glass.

Piccolo’s head came back up and he poured them another green beer each. “I am so confused. Are you guys like…poly…or…what?”

It was Vegeta’s turn to cock his head off to the side. “We’ve been divorced for a long time.”

“The fuck?! Seriously? Nobody tells me this shit. Fucking Gohan. He’s a bad friend,” Piccolo said with a snort and a guzzle. “Divorced, huh, but obviously on friendly enough terms that she zipped you into that fucking dress. Where did she even find it? It really does look good on you. Your ass, Vegeta, is one of the seven wonders of the universe.”

Vegeta’s mouth dropped open. He was delighted that Piccolo liked his ass. He said, stupidly, “What are the other six?”

Piccolo threw his head back and laughed. “Leave it to you to try to overanalyze my shitty pick-up line.”

“Do you need to pick me up? I’m already in your lap, where you picked me up and set me down.”

Piccolo chuckled and shifted his hips, a suggestive movement. “Maybe you’re not as picked up as I want you.”

Vegeta topped off their beers. He wondered if they finished the pitcher if they could just dispense with the formalities and go to town on one another, since Piccolo didn’t seem to mind the idea of fucking Vegeta or vice versa. Piccolo slid a hand onto Vegeta’s knee, and it crept up his thigh. Vegeta, emboldened by Piccolo’s words and being completely saturated with green beer, said, “Oh? How would you pick me up? Press me against a wall? Or set me on a countertop? Though that might be a bit _short_ for someone of your size.”

Piccolo’s eyelids lowered and he checked Vegeta out openly. “Those would work. Maybe the shower, since I have a lot of glitter on. I guess I’d just have to try picking you up in all sorts of ways, see which position I liked best.”

“And what if I picked you up?” Vegeta said, because he wanted to top Piccolo too.

“Oh, yeah, definitely, it only seems fair,” Piccolo said and drank more beer. “Did you know I’d be here tonight?”

“No, that was beyond my wildest dreams,” Vegeta said. His drunken mouth was insubordinate to his pride.

“Interesting. Because I told Bulma about this big party like two weeks ago. She looked very excited. She asked me a bunch of questions,” Piccolo said, he dragged his claws up and down the divides in Vegeta’s leg muscles. Vegeta had a garter high up on one leg, but it was still hidden despite how the dress had hiked up so he could straddle Piccolo.

“Are you implying that the woman perhaps set us up?”

“Why would she do that?” Piccolo said, narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips suspiciously.

“Well…she knows me rather well…” Vegeta said, evasively. It was possible that he had bemoaned his lack of direction in wooing Piccolo to his ex-wife a time or two. Or regularly. For a while. But there was no need for Piccolo to know that.

Piccolo slumped again and said, “Hmm. Intriguing, Vegeta. But not as intriguing as what you are or are not wearing _under_ that dress.”

Vegeta wanted to maintain a firm hold on his face, but he couldn’t. He smirked. He _liked_ what he was wearing under the form fitting dress. Piccolo’s face split open in a huge grin and he said, “You little Saiyan minx! Now I’m too curious to even finish my beer.”

“I could always give you a peek while we drink,” Vegeta said. He thought one more beer might do him good. He was nervous. Really nervous, now that his fantasies were maybe finally going to play out.

Piccolo’s eyelids dropped and his fang showed and he whispered, “So naughty, Vegeta. Who knew…”

Vegeta kicked his leg up and over Piccolo, so he sat sideways on the big man’s lap. Before he could do more, Piccolo yanked him back with a hand spread on his belly and murmured in Vegeta’s ear, “Well that wasn’t much of a peep show, but I liked what I saw.” Piccolo’s scent was completely saturated with beer. Vegeta supposed his was too. But he was beyond caring.

Vegeta pushed up out of Piccolo’s big muscular arms and perched on one bare knee, as Piccolo was somewhat sprawled. Vegeta glanced over his shoulder, hoping to look sexy, not wary, and reached up for his zipper. With one hand, he tipped his beer up to gulp down the rest of it, and simultaneously with the other, he slowly lowered the zipper of his dress. He didn’t unzip himself entirely, just enough that he could use his pinky to push part of the dress aside and reveal the vivid green corset laces, a flash of the Dupioni silk that made up the body of the corset, bright green on the warp, black on the weft, giving it an iridescent shimmer. It complimented his sparkling dress perfectly.

He zipped himself back up and gazed back over his shoulder at Piccolo. Piccolo’s cheeks were flushed again. His eyes snapped up and he quickly poured the dregs of beer into their glasses. Vegeta spun so he stayed seated on one of Piccolo’s knees, but so his legs were between Piccolo’s. 

“Bottoms up, Vegeta,” Piccolo said and drained his glass. 

Vegeta did the same, but he laughed and said, “That’ll work too.”

Piccolo stacked their glasses, and stood, almost dumping Vegeta out of his lap, but his big hand wrapped around Vegeta’s waist. Almost _entirely_ around Vegeta’s waist. Gods the man was tall. Piccolo trailed his claw up the zipper and said, “I didn’t think people opened presents on St. Patty’s Day, but it looks like I might get to open one.” Vegeta laughed. Piccolo quipped his chin and whispered, “I have to go close my tab. Wait for me?”

Vegeta nodded and his eyes followed Piccolo’s cake ass as he sashayed back into the bar. Piccolo’s lower back was exquisite and Vegeta was thankful that the little gold vest didn’t cover it. Piccolo’s ability to walk in heels was also impressive. Vegeta’s own high heels were not particularly comfortable, though they were fabulous. They were platforms, two inches, and then a steep heel beyond that, rounded in the toe, but dipping enough that he had toe cleavage. A delicate strap wrapped around his ankle. The best part though was the fact that they were coated entirely in holographic gold glitter. They glimmered and shimmered in the firelight, and he knew they made his legs look fantastic. He heard Piccolo’s jovial voice as he returned with a bright green, sparkly fedora on his head now.

People cheered when they saw him, and Vegeta supposed Piccolo was like an icon for St. Patrick’s Day. Vegeta unnecessarily bent to adjust the strap on his shoe, pointing his ass toward Piccolo without an ounce of shame or modesty. Before he could stand up, a big hand cupped his ass cheek and squeezed. “Another little peek and now I _really_ want to unwrap my present. Really. Come on, there’s a wooded area we can fly from. You look sexy as fuck in those heels, but I bet they aren’t great to walk in.”

“They’re not worn for comfort.”

“I wonder how they’d look on me—“

“Probably a bit small—“

“Even up on my shoulders?” Piccolo said with another big, fanged grin. 

Vegeta almost dropped. That smile would be his undoing. They took flight the minute they were under the cover of a few trees and Piccolo flew until he was over Vegeta and wrapped around him from behind. “Are you cold?”

“Not anymore,” Vegeta said. The act surprised him. It was…sweet. It filled Vegeta with hope. He tried to keep it subdued, but he was drunk enough that he could let himself dream a little. He couldn’t help it as Piccolo’s fiery arms squeezed him tighter. As Piccolo hummed happily in his ear. 

Piccolo’s lips pressed against the side of Vegeta’s neck. He whispered, “I’m a little drunk. But not too drunk.”

“Then we should be well-matched in inebriation, if not in size.”

“Maybe the size of our libidos are the same?” Piccolo offered and kissed along the nape of Vegeta’s neck to the other side. He bit Vegeta experimentally and Vegeta gasped. His voice got lower, breathier, and he purred, “I think we’re going to have fun, Vegeta.”

He wrapped tighter around Vegeta and spiraled down toward the river where Vegeta knew Piccolo often meditated and trained with Gohan, when the whelp still trained, which was not often. What Vegeta didn’t know is that on the hillside above the waterfall, there was an elegant, contemporary house that he’d never noticed before. Piccolo landed with surprising grace for how drunk he was and the fact that he was wearing stilettos. He didn’t set Vegeta down, but spun him and nudged Vegeta’s chin out of his way to kiss along Vegeta’s collarbone.

“Vegeta…I think…that I’m going to devour you,” Piccolo murmured against Vegeta’s throat as he keyed into his house. He kicked off his heels and said, “Can I keep yours on?”

“Yes, gods yes,” Vegeta panted. He wanted Piccolo’s mouth. Now. He clutched the big man’s beautiful jawline and pulled Piccolo’s mouth to his.

Piccolo grinned before their lips met and whispered, “Would it freak you out if I said that I’ve never been happier than when you ran into me in that bar?”

“No, because I was too,” Vegeta answered and pressed his lips to Piccolo’s. Piccolo’s mouth opened eagerly for him, but the smile stayed and Vegeta’s chest felt full that Piccolo couldn’t stop grinning while they were kissing. Like it made him too happy to stop for anything.

Vegeta dragged his tongue along the edge of Piccolo’s razor sharp fangs and when the taste of his own blood mixed with the boozy taste of Piccolo, he moaned. Piccolo’s arms encircled him tighter and his tongue slipped into Vegeta’s mouth. The smile gave way to frantic kissing and Piccolo walked them up a fairly open stairwell and across a landing to his bedroom. Two whole walls were glass and opened up to a wrap-around deck, screened in on one-side.

Piccolo went straight outside, set Vegeta’s ass on the railing and slid his hands up and down the outside of Vegeta’s exposed thighs. Vegeta’s hands gripped Piccolo’s pecs and a moan escaped him as they continued to kiss. It was drunk and heated and wonderful and Vegeta wanted it to last forever. He pushed the sparkly vest off Piccolo’s big shoulders and Piccolo stopped touching him long enough to let it drop behind him.

He snuck his big hands up under the hem of Vegeta’s dress, rucking it up higher so Vegeta could spread his legs wider to let Piccolo grind against him. Piccolo panted out, “You outgrowing that lacy little thing I saw, you tease. Holy shit, Vegeta, I never imagined how hot you’d look in a dress.”

Hot kisses and rough bites ran down Vegeta’s neck as Piccolo’s hands moved back on top of the dress to cup his ass. Piccolo pulled their crotches together and Vegeta finally got to frot with him. Vegeta groaned, “Fucking gods, you feel fucking amazing. Did…did you imagine me as hot in other things?”

“I don’t have to imagine you being hot, Vegeta, you _are_ hot. But yeah, I’ve imagined you in other things,” Piccolo said, his mouth on the move over Vegeta’s pecs and shoulders. Piccolo was a biter and Vegeta was hard-pressed not to come in his lacy little knickers.

“Oh gods, if you keep biting me things are going to get messy, Piccolo,” Vegeta rasped.

“I’m not making you bleed…much. I can stop…”

Vegeta stole his mouth again, tasting his blood with a moan. “No…I love it. A lot. Not a bloody mess.”

Piccolo smirked and he gripped Vegeta’s flanks in the lull in their making out. “Not gonna lie, Vegeta, it’s not helping me not want to bite you that you’re maybe about to come in your sexy dress.”

“I want you to fuck me in the dress. And the corset. And I want to fuck you while I wear the corset. I guess what I’m saying is we have a lot of fucking to do,” Vegeta growled.

Piccolo’s eyes widened and his grin returned. He whispered, “I can’t believe you’re in my house. In a dress. And a corset. With a hard-on.” Piccolo’s cheeks were tinged violet with drink and he giggled a little.

“Why is that?” Vegeta murmured and kissed down Piccolo’s muscular neck onto the beautiful, powerful pecs. He planted a kiss on each shamrock, but left them on. He rolled his hips against Piccolo’s.

Piccolo squeezed his thighs and moaned as he frotted more aggressively. “I didn’t know you were bi—“

“Earth nonsense. Not how it’s done in space—“

“Quiet, keep kissing me. But second, I certainly didn’t think you’d be willing to fuck me and I assumed if you did—“

“Wait. Why? But you said you talked to the woman?”

“Yeah. She was just asking me about my plans for tonight. I assumed when I saw you that she’d pranked you or something. Now I don’t know what to think.”

Vegeta bit Piccolo’s fantastic trapezius, lapped at the blood as Piccolo mewled with pleasure, and said, “You seriously never got that…that…that I have a _thing_?”

“A thing?”

“For you. That I have…fuck…what do the Earthlings call it. A crush? Is that the term? If I…pine…for you?”

Piccolo lurched back from Vegeta. Vegeta was drunk too, and it made his tongue looser than he should let it be, but there was no stopping it. Not that it mattered. He’d spoken the truth. Vegeta felt his cheeks catch fire. Obviously Piccolo was fine fucking him. That was what he’d gone to the bar to do: to get fucked. To find someone to fuck. Not Vegeta, but someone. And Vegeta was happy that he was the lucky someone. Vegeta’s eyes dodged Piccolo’s and he gritted his teeth. He should have just kept his mouth occupied with the beautiful Namek’s body.

Piccolo’s fingers pushed Vegeta’s chin up and Piccolo met his eyes with a little surprised pyramid in the center of his eyebrows. A smile, a shy, tentative smile, quirked his lips. “You…pine…for _me_?”

“Yes…I…Sorry…We can still just fuck. I didn’t mean to kill the mood,” Vegeta said, but he felt so vulnerable that he wished they could stop talking and get straight to fucking so he didn’t have to think about how much he would miss Piccolo after it was over and Piccolo sent him home.

Piccolo’s mouth crushed his and his hands held Vegeta's jaw as he rolled their cocks together. He panted against Vegeta’s lips, “Why would you telling me you like me kill the mood, Vegeta?”

Vegeta couldn’t speak for a moment because Piccolo’s kissing was so fervent. Piccolo bit down his neck and onto the upper edge of his pecs and Vegeta gasped, “I know you were just looking to get laid, it’s fine.”

Piccolo pulled back and glared at Vegeta. “Vegeta, I didn’t even know you were available until about an hour ago. Maybe I’ve pined for your married ass too. Maybe if you fucking _pine_ for someone, you should let that person know you’re single.”

Vegeta’s mouth fell open and he stammered, “I…you…you…me?” He pointed at himself.

Piccolo grinned and squeezed Vegeta’s ass. “Yeah, you. Now can I take you inside and see what you’ve got hiding besides a garter?”

Vegeta nodded, dumbfounded that any of this was happening. Piccolo nibbled on him more as he carried him inside. Vegeta said, “As long as you intend to get it out of the way soon.”

“Yeah, I do,” Piccolo growled and laid Vegeta on the edge of his bed as he dropped to his knees. 

He grabbed the edge of the garter with his teeth and tugged it down, giggling the whole time. When he got to Vegeta’s be-heeled foot, he used his hands to slide the garter over it. He caressed Vegeta’s legs and shoved Vegeta’s dress up to his waist. Vegeta was wearing a lacy pair of peek-a-boo boy short underwear, kelly green, and now pretty far up his ass thanks to his hard-on pulling it forward.

Piccolo groaned, “Fucking gods, Vegeta…this was not even on my radar as a possibility, but I might have to get you more lacy little knickers.” He bent and dragged his tongue up the underside of Vegeta’s cock, his saliva adding to Vegeta’s pre-cum and making the lace even wetter. “That being said, they have to go, right now.” Piccolo freed Vegeta’s cock and shimmied them down Vegeta’s legs. Vegeta put his legs straight in the air and laughed that Piccolo didn’t even have to stand up to reach to take them off over his heels.

Vegeta moved to put his legs back on either side of Piccolo, but Piccolo pushed them back toward Vegeta’s face, rolling his hips up, and completely exposed his ass. Piccolo’s tongue was more dextrous than Vegeta had fantasized as he curled it against Vegeta’s pucker. “Holy fucking shit, Piccolo,” Vegeta murmured.

“Look at your ass. Fuck all, it’s even better naked,” Piccolo growled and dove back into rimming Vegeta, shoving his dress out of the way more to spread Vegeta’s legs and open him up. “Holy shit. I’m crazy excited. And too drunk to keep my mouth shut. Gods, Vegeta, I have wanted to be with you for so long.”

Vegeta curled up to look in Piccolo’s eyes. “You…you have?”

“Yeah. Mutual pining, my smol crush. Can I fuck you? You need a warm-up?”

“No. I’m drunk and relaxed and want your prick inside me now,” Vegeta said, lunging up to kiss Piccolo as he let Vegeta’s hips fall back down.

He unbuttoned Piccolo’s tiny, tight shorts. His prick was bigger than Vegeta expected, and a flutter of nerves flapped in his stomach. Together they shoved his shorts around his knees. Vegeta looked around and said, “You have lube, yes? That monster requires more than spit.”

Piccolo held up his hand and Vegeta watched as his palm became shiny and began to drip. “Magic,” Piccolo whispered, “is useful.”

Piccolo stroked himself and circled his slippery fingers on Vegeta’s bud. He pressed two fingers inside Vegeta and Vegeta felt the novel sensation of lube pouring off Piccolo’s fingers into him. Piccolo curled down to kiss him, fingering him gently and scissoring. “Fucking gods, Vegeta, you’re so tight.”

“Yes, well, I’ve never bottomed before and I haven’t fucked at all in years.”

“Well now it’s just necessary that we fuck all night, you know that right?” Piccolo said with a grin.

“Yes. It is necessary. We have some time to make up for.”

“You sure you’ll be okay. I can just finger you and we can frot—“

“I want you to fuck me and I want you to do it now. You don’t need to be careful. I’m not one of your weak-ass human lovers.”

Piccolo chuckled and withdrew his fingers. He pressed his broad head against Vegeta and kissed him more tenderly. “Relax, yeah, and I’ll fuck you just right. I’ll make all that pining worthwhile, I promise.”

Vegeta was drunk enough that it was surprisingly easy to let go and loosen up for Piccolo. Piccolo pushed inside him slowly, his eyelids fluttering down, but not closing as he held Vegeta’s gaze. His mouth hung open with pleasure and he breathed, “You fit me fucking perfectly. Everything about you…”

Vegeta liked the sound of that. He used his abs to lift his ass up off the bed and slam against Piccolo, taking the rest of his length in one fast thrust. Piccolo whimpered and pulled Vegeta’s legs over his shoulders. Vegeta loved watching his big green hands slide up and down Vegeta’s thighs and shins. He rolled into Vegeta, his cock plunging deep and hard, but not fast. Not yet. “Oh, Vegeta, you feel so fucking good.” 

“Fuck me harder. Oh gods. Fuck me so hard!”

“Vegeta if you keep talking like that I’m not going to last,” Piccolo said with a sexy smirk.

“Fuck me with that big beautiful cock of yours. Ram it as deep as you can, as fast as you can so I can feel every fucking inch of you,” Vegeta purred, grinning. 

Piccolo laughed and gripped his thighs, yanking Vegeta a little off the edge of the bed. He slammed into Vegeta hard and his hips became a blur as he took Vegeta at his word, pummeling his prostate. Piccolo’s head fell back and his hat finally came off completely as he cried out with increasing volume.

Vegeta was so pent up that he wailed, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fill me! Fuck, I…Piccolo!” His orgasm seized his entire body, ecstasy ripping out from his core. He admired Piccolo’s reflexes as he wrapped his big hand around Vegeta’s cock and caught all of his cum before it hit his dress.

His ass squeezed and gripped Piccolo’s prick and it intensified his ecstasy. Piccolo’s eyes scrunched shut and he growled, “Fuck, yes, fuck!” Vegeta felt Piccolo’s cum pour into him, squelching out as the big man continued to plunge into him. Piccolo slowed gradually with whimpering pleasure. He licked Vegeta’s cum off his hand, his eyes sliding open. He stared at Vegeta as he finished cleaning his hand and then folded Vegeta in half to bend and kiss him.

Piccolo lifted Vegeta up into a sitting position, still slowly thrusting, and unzipped the dress. “Vegeta…I think I need to take your dress off even though that was hottest sex of my entire life.”

“Likewise. And yes. This corset is custom made, I want you to see it. I want you to fuck me in it. Because I’m not even close to sated.”

“No, that’s good, because I’m not even close to done fucking you,” Piccolo murmured, kissing Vegeta deeply. He gathered the dress in his hands and lifted it over Vegeta’s head so he never had to pull out of Vegeta.

Piccolo leaned his upper body back so he could fully see Vegeta. Vegeta noticed for the first time that Piccolo had lit candles with chi. His eyes glittered in the warm light. The front of Vegeta’s corset pushed up his pecs, making them more like breasts. His nipples were hidden, but just. There were elaborate, Celtic shamrocks embroidered in a greenish gold thread in an asymmetrical swirl down the center. A golden ribbon ran through eyelets all along the top and the bottom edge. The cording in the back was a bright green that highlighted the green in the silk.

Vegeta already had a narrow waist, but he’d had Bulla lace him up, using her Saiyan strength, so his waist was snatched, giving him an hourglass figure that most women would envy. Piccolo ran his hands up and down Vegeta’s flanks and onto his ass, still languidly fucking him. “Vegeta, you are a fucking sight. What are your thoughts on me kidnapping you from Capsule Corp, keeping you here? Because I’m not inclined to give you back to Bulma.” Piccolo kissed him fiercely before Vegeta could answer, but when he finally freed Vegeta's mouth, Vegeta saw that his eyes were nervous, sincere, still a little drunk.

“You sure that’s not the green beer talking?”

“It’s not the beer. I want to celebrate the transition of our pining into something better…right?” Piccolo gripped his waist and said, “Fuck me.”

“You’d have to finish fucking me for that to be a possibility, and I rather enjoy what you’re doing at the moment,” Vegeta said and Piccolo laughed. 

Piccolo pinned his legs to the bed by his shoulders and shifted to be above Vegeta. “I might just have to take my time with you on our second go. Maybe spin you around and unlace you while I fuck you. Then fuck you in just your sexy heels.”

“Do you mean it?”

“About kidnapping you?”

“I’m not sure it’s kidnapping if the kidnappee is in favor and complicit,” Vegeta said, but he was rapidly losing the ability to speak as Piccolo held himself inside Vegeta and pulsed hard.

“Yeah, I definitely meant it. I…I mean…if…if you want…” Piccolo said, his eyes nervous and beautiful with their smokey, sparkly makeup.

“Yes. I want. I really want. I really fucking want,” Vegeta said, his own heart slapping around arrhythmically in his chest despite Piccolo putting it out there that way.

Piccolo slid almost entirely out of Vegeta and drove slowly back inside him. They kissed more, his big hands caressing the back of Vegeta’s thighs as he fucked him. They panted against each other’s lips and one of Piccolo’s hands came up to his face, threading his long fingers into Vegeta’s hair. “I’m so drunk that I have no filter, Vegeta. I’m thinking about saying things I shouldn’t say.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Because I’m…I dunno. I guess because I’m not supposed to say it?” Piccolo said and smirked as he kissed along Vegeta’s jawline. 

“But Earth is stupid. And I don’t care about any of their cultural norms. Nor should you. We’re not Earthlings. We’re kindred alien spirits. Who look excellent in gold glitter.”

Piccolo giggled and whispered, “We really do…” He searched Vegeta’s eyes for a long time, his hips never slowing or stopping. “So…if I told you that I loved you. That I have…for a bit…you might not be mad?”

“Why would I be mad? I love you too. Even when I was with Bulma. She knew. She gave me a hard time. I assume that is why she spoke to you about the party.”

Piccolo’s eyes widened and his little smile turned into a big, fanged grin. “You do?”

“Indeed. You’ll never be rid of me now. I’ll be like a little parasite, always trying to get on your cock or in your ass.”

“The best parasite ever,” Piccolo chortled out and fucked Vegeta harder, faster. “I love fucking you too, Vegeta. Your ass is fucking perfect.”

“If I do this,” Vegeta paused and squeezed the muscles of his asshole to grip Piccolo tighter. Piccolo whimpered and gasped, “might it push you closer to coming? Because I’m dangerously close to coming and if you keep pounding my p-spot like that, I’ll have no choice but to grip your ass until you fill me again.”

Piccolo cried out and Vegeta let go, his release surging through him as Piccolo’s seed filled his seizing, quivering core. They kissed and clutched at each other. Vegeta groaned as Piccolo pressed his antennae against Vegeta’s forehead. All Piccolo’s ecstasy roared into Vegeta, layering over his own climax like a magnifying glass. He screamed and Piccolo’s tongue plundered his mouth as their orgasms spilled into one another.

After a long, mewling moment, Vegeta regained the ability to speak. But he didn’t. He wrapped around Piccolo with all four limbs and Piccolo moved them farther on the bed. He stayed inside Vegeta, stayed joined with him telepathically, and they dozed drunkenly, completely together, completely in love. Vegeta reflected that maybe the little four-leafed clovers did bring luck. He couldn’t think of a single more fortuitous outcome to his outing and he smiled against Piccolo’s lips, amused that the holiday that would coincide with their anniversary basically celebrated the color green. Vegeta could get behind that, green was his new favorite color, worthy of all manner of celebration.


	2. Green Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a few months on Earth, Vegeta tries to decide how he feels about his fate that he ended up trapped on a backwater planet. His training partner, Piccolo, helps him put things in perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's definite alien biology/head canon/sex ahead. Piccolo is capable of breeding as both a male and a female, so if that squicks you, this fic is not for you.

Luck was all a matter of perspective. Vegeta, at first blush, was lucky. Royal. Strong. Not too hard on the eyes. Sharp. Avoided death in the genocide and planetary destruction of his race. Lucky.

Or Vegeta could be seen as unlucky. Short. Short-tempered, too. One of the last of his species. Weaker than a third-class clown. Slave to a psychopathic tyrant who stole Vegeta as a child, groomed him, and turned him into a monster. Albeit a monster he was already primed to become, but still. Unlucky enough to die by the same creature’s hand. Unlucky enough to be brought back on the same fucking planet that set off the chain reaction of Vegeta’s downfall. Just fucking unlucky. 

But as he stood swathed in shadow, silent and watching, at one of the woman’s ridiculous soirées, he wondered again if it wasn’t unlucky at all that he was stranded on Earth. Vegeta looked at the party-goers. The Earth idiots and the Nameks were celebrating an Earth holiday that seemed to center on tiny, magical bankers who favored a certain type of four-leafed plant called a “shamrock,” and beer. Vegeta, long before landing on Earth, ceased questioning various reasons for festivals and revelry. Saiyans reveled in blood and not much else. Or so he’d been told. But even for a planet as peculiar as Earth, this holiday seemed absurd.

The usual cast of imbeciles cavorted in the early spring sunshine, though the sun was on its way down. Vegeta loathed the Earthlings with two notable exceptions. The woman he found tolerable; she was smart and fierce. There was one other who he tolerated. Admired. _Enjoyed_. 

They had trained together almost every day since Vegeta found himself trapped on this salty bog of a planet. Now the tall, graceful warrior moved amongst his own people, and though it wasn’t betrayed in his movement, Vegeta could see there was no ease in the big man’s socializing. His face was assiduously bland and neutral. His conversations deliberately short. The Namek likely pondered luck today too. The shamrock plant being worshipped was supposed to signify luck. Bring luck, even, and Vegeta smirked a little at the thought.

But the Namek was unlucky. Stranded here on Earth, in exile, an outcast. The last of his clan. He was no Earthling, yet he wasn’t truly a Namek either, beyond his genetics. Then there was the unlucky affair of him merging with the warrior, Nail, on Namek. That event meant every Namek around him eyed him with anger, distrust. Disgust, even. Piccolo hadn’t known, of course, that any of them would be brought back. He hadn’t known it was taboo as taboo got amongst the green men. Unlucky.

Piccolo could be viewed as lucky too, just like Vegeta. All a matter of perspective. The man was tall and handsome. More powerful than any of his race. Smarter too. More cunning. Many on the mud ball worshipped him as a deity. But mostly Vegeta thought the Namek was lucky that he was…at peace. The Namek had no wish to be anything but what he was. The Namek didn’t seem to _want_ anything. _That_ was the best luck a person could have. Wanting was just the first step toward disappointment.

Vegeta wanted to go speak with Piccolo. There would be nothing unusual or uncouth or suspect about it. He and Piccolo sparred and often fraternized afterwards, sometimes bathing in the river near Piccolo’s house, sometimes soaking in the hot springs hidden in the mountains nearby, a secret place, a place Piccolo said he had only shown Vegeta. Which was lucky. Piccolo was the best luck Vegeta had maybe ever had. And that terrified him.

Piccolo tipped his head back to finish his beer. The brown glass bottle looked fake in his big hand, appearing miniature by comparison. He sauntered to the recycling bin and his dark, deep eyes lit on Vegeta. Vegeta froze, like a prey animal, when he wanted to be the predator. Piccolo held his eyes, unafraid, as he always was with Vegeta.

The sun illuminated his pretty green skin, lighting it up like new spring leaves. He was dressed simply in a long-sleeved, white button-down and dark jeans that hugged his ass and powerful thighs. Black flats, adding nothing to his already absurd height. The shirt was open down to the lower edge of his pecs, the red, raised ridge peeking out when he moved. His sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows. Vegeta noticed with sudden interest that Piccolo had big, heavy hematite hoops in each earlobe. They looked sexy. Vegeta wanted to taste them, taste those ears. To see if they were as sensitive to touch as they were to sound.

Piccolo leaned on the wall next to Vegeta, bending one leg and pressing his foot against it. He did so with enough sprawl that he didn’t tower over Vegeta as much as usual. He glanced down and said, “You want me to get you a beer so you don’t have to brave the others?”

Vegeta was touched by Piccolo’s willingness to help Vegeta be antisocial. This was why he fancied Piccolo. Piccolo didn’t expect or want Vegeta to be anything but what he was, even after nearly three months of Vegeta’s surly assholery, Piccolo just…accepted him.

Vegeta arched a brow and smirked up at his only friend in the universe. He uncrossed his arms and revealed the flask in his hand. He’d only had a sip, but he was making gestures of assimilation like this, drinking at parties. Piccolo grinned and held out his hand. Vegeta passed him the flask. 

Piccolo took a swig. His brows scrunched, his nose wrinkled, and he pursed his lips as he swallowed. He wheezed, “Sweet fucking gods, Vegeta, is that _Everclear_?”

“Well, I drink like I fight, without wisdom, but all in,” Vegeta mused.

Piccolo handed the flask back to Vegeta, who tipped it up and swallowed, grimacing. The big man chuckled and said, “So you’re just quietly getting sloshed by yourself over here? Silently judging the Earthlings. The Nameks too, maybe.”

“I’m not sloshed. Not yet, anyways. And I could judge them aloud, but I’ve been told it’s rude,” Vegeta said.

Piccolo’s half-smile always did something to Vegeta. Even in that first fight before Kakarot arrived, the way Piccolo’s fang winked out when he half-smiled was all it took for Vegeta’s insides to rearrange themselves. The ethanol amplified the effect and Vegeta felt like his guts were doing an elaborate dance. 

Piccolo said, “You know you don’t have to get wasted alone. We could get wasted together. Even though Bulma will be pissed if I flee, the Nameks are all making me want to run away.”

“Oh? Where would you run?”

“I’m still fucked up and sore from sparring yesterday, so I was thinking we could go soak at a _new_ hot springs. I found it by pure dumb luck yesterday. It’s pretty awesome though.”

Vegeta wondered if every bit of what he’d taken for bad luck in his life was actually just…luck. The luck that led him here, to this moment, with Piccolo asking him to abscond together in secret to what might be seen as a romantic locale. This opportunity to be alone with Piccolo felt lucky. The best luck. Worth everything Vegeta had ever endured.

“I have already eaten, so this little gathering of misfits holds no appeal any longer.”

Piccolo’s eyes fell and a soft smile spread on his face. When his eyes met Vegeta’s again, Vegeta hoped, wished, believed there was something new in them. Piccolo said, “But the hot springs hold appeal…with me?”

Vegeta nodded, holding Piccolo’s gaze. He took another sip of the awful spirits. Piccolo jerked his head and Vegeta followed silently as they casually slipped away from the party. They often did this at the woman’s gatherings, fading away into the background so they could escape. Once they’d wandered a decent distance away, they sprang into the air.

Piccolo put on speed right away and Vegeta followed, exhilarated by the metaphorical chase as the much as the literal one. It was farther from Capsule Corp than Vegeta had ever been, but he trusted Piccolo.

The big volcanic range that came into view as they flew north was blanketed in snow and buffeted by an angry sea on the eastern side. The air was brutally cold and Vegeta was forced to use chi to stay warm. Snow spilled out of the heavy clouds now and darkness came swiftly with the storm. Piccolo descended fast on the seaward side of one of the tallest peaks. 

Vegeta watched the Namek disappear into the mountainside, but when Vegeta dropped lower he almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A big lip of rock jutted out toward the sea, a bowl cut into the rock above it by eons of salt-spray from the ocean.

The lip brimmed with steaming, glowing water, a pale, ethereal green. Piccolo grinned from a sheltered alcove behind the pool, set slightly above the mountain side of the lip. Vegeta ducked in next to him, the space wasn’t large, but it wasn’t cramped either. It was cozy and the rock was pleasantly warm to the touch, heating the air without it being overly damp. 

Piccolo whispered, “Luckiest find ever.” He stared into Vegeta’s eyes as he said it and Vegeta fantasized that Piccolo meant _him._ Vegeta.

Vegeta breathed, “Yes. I’m very lucky too.”

Piccolo canted his head to the side, but didn’t probe Vegeta. Instead he started unbuttoning his shirt. Vegeta held his breath with a jolt of excitement that perhaps Piccolo intended to soak naked. Vegeta didn’t have a scrap of modesty, but this would be a new turn. They usually just soaked in the tattered remains of their training clothes.

Vegeta pulled his shirt over his head. Piccolo slid his back off his shoulders, his eyes glittering in the bioluminescence of the springs. Vegeta waited, holding his breath, as Piccolo's shirt fluttered to the ground. The susurration of Piccolo’s zipper made his breath hitch, and Vegeta added his own soft sound as he unbuttoned and unzipped himself. Vegeta’s heart slammed against his ribs as he watched Piccolo shimmy his jeans down and off. He wore tight, bright red boxer-briefs. As he hooked his thumbs in the waistband, he met Vegeta’s gaze and Vegeta lowered his jeans in answer. He kicked them off. Vegeta wore nothing underneath. Vegeta swallowed hard, trying not to openly ogle Piccolo.

Piccolo’s face betrayed nothing as he stepped into the water. It was deeper than Vegeta expected and he lowered himself slowly in beside Piccolo. It was nearly scalding, but felt wonderful after their frigid flight. Piccolo floated across the pool to the ledge and rested his forearms on it, displaying his muscular back for Vegeta. Vegeta drifted beside him, emulating him, and wondered if his faint hope that Piccolo felt as he did was completely misplaced.

Piccolo looked out over the angry sea, the lowering ceiling of clouds, and said, “I couldn’t believe it when I found this yesterday after we sparred. Isn’t the view spectacular?”

Vegeta stared at Piccolo, unable to quell the predictably cheesy response as he said, “It is. Gorgeous.”

Piccolo glanced at him, but then turned more fully when he realized Vegeta’s meaning. His eyes widened a bit in the faint green glow of the pool. His chest rose and fell faster. A violet blush spread on his cheeks, visible even in the faint light. His eyes fell away from Vegeta’s intent gaze.

“Why were you flying out here yesterday? This is hundreds of miles from where we sparred.”

Piccolo returned to his position on the ledge. His eyes narrowed as he looked out into the snow that was rapidly becoming a blizzard. “I…I needed to think.”

Vegeta considered speaking, but he waited patiently to see if Piccolo elaborated. Piccolo’s eyes darted to Vegeta and back out into the wild storm. “It’s just…I…Well…I…I’m a solitary creature, you know? I always have been. And I like that. I’ve never…never _wanted_ anything before. I mean, I wanted to beat Goku for a while, but that was short-lived and sort of died with him when I killed Raditz. So I’m not…not used to… _wanting_.”

Piccolo stopped speaking again and pushed back to cup some water and scrub it over his face. Another brief glance at Vegeta. 

Vegeta whispered, “What do you want?”

Piccolo laid his head on his forearms, turning his face toward Vegeta. “I don't think I can have what I want.”

“Why?”

Piccolo searched Vegeta’s eyes. “Maybe it’s more that I don’t know how to go about getting it. I’ve never…tried…anything like it before.”

Vegeta rested his own head on his forearms, staring into Piccolo’s eyes. “There’s a first time for everything.”

Piccolo smirked. “You would say something like that.”

“What’s the worst that could happen if you try getting what you want?” Vegeta said.

“What if it might fuck up something I already have? Something good,” Piccolo said, his voice small, scared.

“That seems unlikely,” Vegeta said and his own pulse soared, because it was sounding more and more like Piccolo felt the same. Vegeta said, “I want something too, as it happens.”

Piccolo said, “You do?” Piccolo’s eyes danced back and forth between Vegeta’s.

“Yes. And I have a similar concern. But I think the wanting has reached a point where I might hope that…that if I don’t get what I want, I can still have the thing—the wonderful thing—I already have,” Vegeta said. He decided there was no more point in skirting around it. He leaned forward hesitantly and cupped Piccolo’s jaw as he gently pressed their lips together.

Piccolo’s shaking hand slid onto Vegeta’s bare flank and pulled him closer to Piccolo. He tilted his head, opened his mouth more, and let Vegeta really taste him. Vegeta floated toward Piccolo and his other arm came off the ledge and both wrapped around Vegeta's ribcage slowly, like he was afraid Vegeta would spook.

Vegeta twined his tongue with Piccolo’s and Piccolo’s breath caught. Vegeta wondered if Piccolo had ever kissed anyone before. Perhaps the big man’s real fear hadn’t been whether Vegeta wanted him, but that he hadn’t been in a physical relationship before. Vegeta’s hands slid along the sides of Piccolo’s neck and down the big muscles on either side of his spine.

Piccolo squeezed Vegeta tighter as his kissing got more heated. He explored Vegeta’s mouth and his breathing was so fast Vegeta almost considered pausing to tell Piccolo to relax. Big hands gripped Vegeta’s sides, but as Piccolo unwound his arms, his hands moved across Vegeta’s back and down onto his hips. Very, very slowly, he spread his hands and groped Vegeta’s ass. Vegeta moaned, encouraging Piccolo to touch him more.

Vegeta had suspected from Piccolo’s ascetic lifestyle that he’d never indulged in physical pleasure. Vegeta assumed it was from some misguided beliefs about warriors needing to focus only on fighting or some Earthling religious nonsense, but now, feeling the power and even just the _size_ of everything about Piccolo, Vegeta wondered if maybe it had just been a matter of Piccolo not wanting to accidentally kill some human while fucking them. 

Piccolo seemed to take Vegeta’s moan for the permission it was and he caressed Vegeta’s body freely, down his thighs, up onto his back and chest and shoulders, and returned to his ass. Piccolo growled and flexed his fingers. His claws bit into Vegeta’s skin just enough to make Vegeta gasp. Piccolo surprised Vegeta then, shifting his hands onto Vegeta’s thighs, taking hold of them, and spreading Vegeta’s legs wide. He pulled Vegeta astride his big, thick body and their cocks pressed together in the heat of the glowing water. 

Piccolo breathed, “Vegeta…” and rolled his hips against Vegeta’s, frotting with him. Now that Vegeta was on his hips, his hands returned to palming Vegeta’s ass, but with intention now. His fervent kisses and frantic breathing turned Vegeta on as much as the feel of their flesh together and their hard-ons grinding together. He loved making Piccolo hunger for him. He wanted him badly, but suspected fucking would be a bit much for Piccolo if he’d never even kissed before.

It sounded like Piccolo wanted more than a quick fling, or he wouldn’t be worried about losing his friendship with Vegeta. Vegeta’s hands ran all over the different textures of Piccolo’s skin. Piccolo paused from kissing, his eyes opening enough to look into Vegeta’s, and his big hand caressed Vegeta’s cheekbone, his jawline. When he leaned in to kiss Vegeta again, two firm, silky points of pressure touched Vegeta’s forehead.

Vegeta had never experienced any pleasant form of telepathy, only mind-control and painful, searing attempts at fighting using mental means, so the pleasant unfurling of Piccolo’s feelings for him in his mind was a completely unexpected, staggering experience. The first burst wasn’t visual or verbal it was more like an aroma: he sensed it and immediately felt a certain way. Piccolo loved him. Vegeta admired the bravery of just sharing that with Vegeta and Vegeta wondered if he could send his own love back into Piccolo.

Piccolo grinned against his mouth, because they still kissed. Vegeta heard Piccolo’s deep voice inside his mind, _Yeah, you can_.

_Oh!_ Vegeta exclaimed mentally because it was strange and intimate to hear Piccolo inside himself. 

Piccolo smiled more broadly and paused from kissing to laugh a little. “You’re pretty cute, Vegeta,” Piccolo murmured. 

“Likewise, my lucky love,” Vegeta whispered and used his thumb to brush Piccolo’s pretty, pronounced cheekbones. Piccolo kept his antennae pressed to Vegeta and it felt so intimate and cozy. He loved being able to share this way. For two men who were often quiet and short with words, it was the perfect way for them to communicate.

An image of them making love on the warm floor of the cave came into focus in Vegeta’s mind. He had been right, Piccolo had never been with anyone, and was nervous. But he was hungry too, eager to be with Vegeta in every way. Piccolo’s Namek physiology came in Vegeta’s mind too, images of wee Saimekian babies scampering around their feet, climbing them, and all of it on a background of love and a life together. The sort of life Vegeta never imagined for himself, even once Frieza was dead. He thought he would die lonely and alone on Earth, because he never dared to dream anyone could love him.

Piccolo strolled out of the water with Vegeta on his hips. It was a novel sensation to be carried in this way, moved easily, and to feel…dainty. Vegeta had been with men larger than himself in the past, but never like Piccolo, and never strong and steady like Piccolo. Piccolo’s roots ran deep and Vegeta felt safe and loved in his arms, like nothing could shake Piccolo.

Piccolo grinned into their kiss again and Vegeta realized he must have heard Vegeta’s romantic musings. “Maybe a little,” Piccolo breathed. Vegeta expected to be cold once they were out of the water because the blizzard was almost a white-out. Vegeta could hear the sea, but he could no longer see it. But the air was warm from the stones and the hot spring. Piccolo sat carefully on the rock floor, Vegeta’s shins pressing against the stone, and Vegeta warmed even more.

Piccolo laid slowly back, urging Vegeta to follow so they could keep kissing and stay connected via Piccolo’s antennae. In his mind, Piccolo whispered, _We can still talk this way without them, but…this is going to be good…I think._

Sensation bloomed in Vegeta’s mind, the way Piccolo suspected it would feel to climax connected as they were. “Holy shit,” Vegeta gasped. They both smiled into their kiss.

“Vegeta…I…do you think…” Piccolo trailed off, not expressing his question, but it came in Vegeta’s mind, perhaps against Piccolo’s will because it was followed by hot embarrassment and shame. Piccolo wanted to mate. Really mate. Have a baby.

Vegeta didn’t want Piccolo to be ashamed or embarrassed. Vegeta was afraid to be a father, afraid he’d be terrible or cold like his own. But now that Vegeta had calmed Piccolo’s self-consciousness about asking such a thing, more sweet images of their life as a family filled his mind. Piccolo desperately wanted to be a father. He thought he’d never have that, because he had never felt anything approaching like, let alone love, for another person. Once he fell for Vegeta, he fell hard, and he hoped Vegeta would want a family too.

Vegeta shifted his weight and trailed his hand down Piccolo’s abdomen. He spread it there, wide, and imagined Piccolo pregnant, his belly stretched and fertile. Vegeta shared his own fears, but also his desire to mate with Piccolo. Piccolo affirmed that he wasn’t afraid, that he knew the two of them could get through anything together.

Vegeta’s hand drifted lower and wrapped around their cocks, frotting aggressively. It felt amazing, and Vegeta could feel Piccolo’s pleasure too, but behind that, underneath it, all around it, was Piccolo’s aching desire for Vegeta to fuck him.

Nameks were true biological hermaphrodites, so Piccolo had the ability to have a baby. He didn’t know if Saiyan-Namekian hybrids were possible and whether he’d lay an egg or have a baby, but he wanted to try. He took Vegeta’s hand off their pricks and dragged it lower. At the base of his cock their was what felt like a long scar, maybe two inches, but Piccolo spread his hand over Vegeta’s and pushed his fingers against the scar. 

It wasn’t a scar, it was a tightly closed opening. Vegeta growled happily when he felt the fiery, velvet-lined interior. Piccolo whispered, _It’s called a theadur. Or sheath, before I knew the Namek word. I want you. I want you to fuck me. I’ve wanted it for a long time._

Vegeta thrust his fingers deeper and Piccolo trembled beneath him. Vegeta felt the strange texture of the interior almost…moving…his fingers. Vegeta understood that no lube would be necessary, no spit, that it was just…ready. Vegeta wanted to make Piccolo come before he ever fucked him like that, but Piccolo’s desire radiated into Vegeta so strongly, it was clear Vegeta’s big mate didn’t want anything but Vegeta’s cock at the moment.

Vegeta shifted lower and Piccolo rose up on his elbows to be able to keep kissing Vegeta, to keep his antennae pressed against Vegeta’s forehead. Vegeta reluctantly withdrew his fingers, because it felt amazing inside Piccolo. He aligned his prick and said, _You’re sure_?

_More sure than I’ve been about anything in my life_.

Vegeta plunged into Piccolo hard. Vegeta yelped in surprise because the moment his cock was buried deep in Piccolo, Piccolo’s whole body bloomed with pretty, bioluminescent green light, a deeper green than the hot springs, but no less beautiful. Vegeta growled, “Holy shit, you’re gorgeous.”

Piccolo’s eyes slid open and he seemed as surprised by the light as Vegeta. “Wow…I didn’t know that would happen…” 

Vegeta rolled into him fiercely, and Piccolo groaned. His legs fell open wider to make room for Vegeta to fuck him as deeply as possible. Piccolo’s hips came up to meet Vegeta as he began slamming into Piccolo. Vegeta didn’t know whether it was telepathy or instinct or just desire, but he _needed_ to fuck Piccolo hard. Fuck him rough. Claim him. Make Piccolo his, body and mind. 

He pistoned into Piccolo. Piccolo fell back, and he’d been right, Vegeta could still sense most of his thoughts even without the antennae connection, but he wanted it when he came. Without their mouths together, Piccolo made the most delightful moaning noises. The big man’s abs flexed again and again as he met Vegeta’s strength with his own, bringing their bodies together with the same savagery with which they trained. 

Every millimeter of Vegeta’s cock was so tightly sheathed in Piccolo’s velvety heat that he wasn’t sure how long he would last. It was ecstasy. Vegeta rolled Piccolo’s hips up some so that he could reach Piccolo’s mouth and forehead because he was close. So close. He wanted Piccolo to come for him, he wanted to feel his mate’s climax in its entirety before he lost himself in his own pleasure.

“No…Vegeta…we…we have to come together. Trust me. Just…lean up here. I…” Piccolo clutched Vegeta’s face and kissed him roughly, his antennae pressing firmly on Vegeta’s forehead. 

Vegeta cried out against Piccolo’s lips as the joint release slammed into him. His orgasm was bigger and more shattering than any he’d ever had. The pleasure ballooned out from his cock and filled his whole body, but then Piccolo’s ecstasy exploded into his mind, as though Vegeta’s climax had broken the sound barrier and Piccolo’s pleasure was the sonic boom. Piccolo’s cum splattered them both. But that was only the beginning. Piccolo’s sheath seized Vegeta’s cock and rippled along its length, pulling at it and milking it, almost sucking it. Vegeta could feel the way it hungered for his cum, like a sentient thing.

Vegeta curled out of their mental join and sealed their fate as he sank his teeth deep into the rock hard mound of Piccolo’s right pec. Blood filled his mouth and Piccolo gasped and moaned, “Vegeta, oh fuck, Vegeta! I love you!” 

Vegeta licked the mating mark he’d made on Piccolo’s chest, proud to claim such a strong warrior and a good man as his own. He saw that his skin had started to glow like Piccolo’s. A soft, golden glow, not green, but their skin together looked beautiful.

Piccolo breathed, “Fucking gods, look what I do to you. What you do to me. You’re mine.” Piccolo flipped Vegeta onto his back, still riding his cock, and he kept at it, even though they’d both come. Vegeta didn’t mind. He could fuck Piccolo for hours. Piccolo’s fangs cut into Vegeta’s pec so easily that he almost didn’t feel it until Piccolo’s other teeth sank into the muscle. Piccolo panted around the bite for a long moment before removing his teeth and lapping at the wound.

He sat up on Vegeta’s hips and smirked down at him. “You feel fucking amazing, Vegeta. I might just fuck you until you pass out.”

“I fuck like I fight too—until I have nothing left to give.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Fuck all, I should’ve done this months ago.”

“Months? You’ve only known me a few months.”

“I wanted you the minute I saw you. Love at first, cocky asshole sight,” Piccolo said, grinning, and spread his hands on Vegeta’s chest as he rocked more languidly on his hips.

Vegeta said, “And here I used to think I was unlucky, but perhaps that was the luckiest day of my life, the two of us finding each other in the enormity of the universe.”

Piccolo curled down and kissed Vegeta, brushed his antennae over is forehead. They were lucky, enjoying that luck in the soft green glow of the springs and their bodies, as the world and the universe outside them raged. Vegeta smiled, thinking that lucky green light had warmed him and defeated the darkness, inside and out, and that maybe together, they could both find peace. 

* * *

Vegeta reclined on the beach, watching Piccolo chase Vica, their son, as he scampered in and out of the waves, his little black tail lashing behind his naked green bum. Vegeta could hear the soft, rumbling of Piccolo’s laughter as he pretended to be knocked down by a wave, allowing Vica to clamber all over him. He was only six months old, but he could keep up with them flying and had cut the last of his teeth, making Piccolo despondent that he would have to wean with the way he was destroying Piccolo’s chest. They were below the cavern where Piccolo and Vegeta mated.

The weather was beautiful on the anniversary of their mating. This year they hadn’t bothered with Bulma’s shindig for the nonsense holiday. Vegeta only cared about the day because of the luck it had brought him, both the tall and the small, laying in the sand, laughing together. 

They’d gotten luckier than they expected that night, and Piccolo turned up pregnant. He sailed through it easily, and six months later, almost to the day, gave birth to their baby boy, the spitting image of Piccolo except his little black, furry tail. Vegeta didn’t trust so much good luck, so the birth was more harrowing for him than for Piccolo, because he kept expecting the universe to come balance the scales. That perhaps it realized its mistake in giving Vegeta, of all people, his Piccolo, his mate. 

Vica apparently vanquished Piccolo and came racing across the sand where he bowled into Vegeta, knocking the wind out of him and getting sand everywhere. Raising a baby Saimekian was wild. Yet Piccolo was already bugging Vegeta to give him another. He wanted a few and he saw no reason for big age gaps given how exhausted they would be no matter what. But if Piccolo felt exhausted, he never showed it. He seemed enlivened by fatherhood.

He came sauntering up the beach toward Vegeta. Vica was pretending to maul Vegeta, which meant he was lightly mauling Vegeta, when Piccolo dropped to his knees and bent to steal a kiss.

Vica spread his little hand on Piccolo’s face and shoved him away, planting a wet, smacking kiss on Vegeta’s chin. “Lucky,” Piccolo chastised, “You better let Daddy have some Hoppi kisses or I’ll have to toss you to the sharks. You can’t have a baby brother without Daddy getting kisses from Hoppi.” 

It delighted Vegeta that Piccolo allowed Vegeta to use the Saiyan term for “Daddy.” It was considered mushy and sentimental on Vegeta-sei, but Vegeta wasn’t on Vegeta-sei. And he was glad for that. Because his beautiful green mate and adorable green child both made him feel mushy and sentimental.

Vegeta wrapped an arm around Vica’s little body and said, “Lucky, you are going to go have a sleepover with the clown and Gohan. Hoppi requires all of Daddy’s attention tonight.” It hadn’t been an intentional decision to call Vica “Lucky,” and they didn’t always use it. But it fit their son. He had a _joie de vivre_ that Vegeta wondered if both Piccolo and Vegeta might have had if their lives had been different. Not that Vegeta would change a thing. Everything in his life led him here, and that was perfect. The best luck ever.

Gohan touched down and said, “Hey, Mr. Piccolo! Hey, Vegeta! Hey, Lucky! You ready to come play with me and my dad?”

Piccolo dusted the sand off Vica and put his clothes back on. Vegeta was terrified to have his son away from him for more than an hour or two. It was what Piccolo wanted though, and Vegeta never denied Piccolo anything. Piccolo handed Gohan the overnight bag they’d packed earlier in the day. Vica hopped into Gohan’s arms and made a series of happy chirping sounds. He nuzzled against Gohan, making the boy smile. 

Piccolo went through an unnecessary litany of eventualities and how to handle them with Gohan before Vica shoved at Piccolo and hissed, “Bye, Daddy! Go bye now! Bye, Hoppi! Kiss-kiss! _Karam_!” Piccolo also encouraged Vegeta to speak Saiyan to Vica, and this word meant “love.” He shouted it as a farewell often, and Vegeta thought it was adorably un-Saiyan to shout love at anyone.

They took off and Piccolo spun back to Vegeta and grinned in the setting sun. “Race you?”

Vegeta was up and in their secret cave, kicking his clothes off before Piccolo even left the beach. Piccolo surprised him though, popping over the lip and into the water already nude. He chortled and said, “I win!”

“Did you just magic your clothes off? That’s cheating!”

“You never mind when I magic my clothes off, Vegeta,” Piccolo said and reclined in the water, back floating so Vegeta could see his already hard cock.

Vegeta floated to him, in between his legs, and dragged his tongue up Piccolo’s sheath and cock. He moved to take Piccolo’s length in his mouth, but Piccolo sat up, preventing him. He kissed Vegeta and cupped his jaw. His antennae were already spilling love and lust into Vegeta as Piccolo wrapped his legs around Vegeta’s hips under the water. He murmured, “Don’t tell me no again, baby.”

“What if we get lucky like last year and you get pregnant tonight?”

“That’s what I want, Vegeta. That’s why it’s called ‘lucky.’”

“You’re sure? They’ll only be a year apart. That’s a lot of Saimekian baby to manage. And you’ll have to take care of Vica while you’re pregnant. I have to train now that we know about the androids.”

Piccolo took their cocks in his big hand and started frotting. “Baby…I know. I have known. It’s not like I’m being spontaneous, I’ve been asking ever since we found out about the androids. Come on. Please? Let’s see if we have any luck left, huh? Because we have a really good streak going.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to quit while we’re ahead?”

“No. I want to get lucky again,” Piccolo said and he was already pushing Vegeta out onto the hot stone floor, lining up his cock, and sinking down onto him. “Let’s get lucky, huh?”

“You’re very hard to say no to, my beautiful green love. My best luck,” Vegeta said and chuckled.

“Then let’s make some more luck, yeah? Just like our adorable green Lucky.”

Vegeta rocked up into his mate, pulling him into a kiss, and they communed with each other. The past year only brought them closer. Their love, their Lucky, all of it gave Vegeta the will to get stronger. He didn’t care about Kakarot anymore, all he wanted was to defeat the androids and secure his family’s future, and as Piccolo grinned against his lips, riding him, bringing him ecstasy so quickly, Vegeta thought that it wasn't such a far-fetched idea. He’d already had more luck than he ever thought he deserved in the form of his green mate, riding his cock and making him a perfect son, so perhaps there was more to be had.

“Anything for you, my love, let’s make some more luck,” Vegeta purred, and they filled the cavern with their own light again, long after dark and into the morning. By the time Vegeta fell asleep sprawled on Piccolo, he felt like the luckiest man alive, whether Piccolo was pregnant or not. His life was filled with luck and love in the form of his beautiful green mate and their son.


	3. Returns on Investment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks's luck runs out at Marron's St. Patrick's Day party and he has to borrow some of Goten's gold coins to keep playing poker, but leaves how he will repay his debt open-ended...

Trunks threw down his cards and Goten tried not to laugh at his best friend. “Fuck. I can’t believe this shit. I should have folded.”

Their fellow college students, Marron and friends of Marron’s, stifled their laughter too. Goten, unable to help himself, said, “Which time, dude?”

Trunks gave Goten a good Vegeta glare, but it broke almost immediately into the soft, blue puppy eyes that Trunks wielded more effectively. Marron snorted and said, “Uh-oh, he’s busting out the high-beams, watch out, Goten.”

“What are you looking at me for?” Goten said and poured the rest of his beer down his throat.

“You’re flush, man, you wouldn’t let me fall out? Who will drive your drunk ass home?”

“I’m not _drunk_ , Trunks. I’m not even buzzed. And both you and I know that your question is disingenuous, since you didn’t bring your car.”

Marron said, “He has a point. And my couch is already occupied. And my bed. And also I don’t want your drunk ass in my house, Trunks.”

“Pleeeease, ‘Ten? I’ll get you back,” Trunks said.

Goten looked down at the pile of chocolate gold coins on the table in front of him mainly to stop ogling his best friend. Trunks looked stunning. A golden, sparkly fedora rode low on his forehead, making his eyes seem more intense. His man bun was sloppy in the back and it gave Trunks the aura of some kind of fairy-tale gangster. The sparkly green suspenders held up a very, very short pair of golden satin shorts. Shorts that showed off his cake ass that Trunks wielded as effectively as his beautiful blue eyes, if not always for the same purposes.

Goten slouched back in his chair. He had gone more risqué for Marron’s St. Patrick’s Day party. He had on fingerless green lace gloves. Marron and 18 were both secret seamstress wizards, so they had worked their magic and made him a corset like Dr. Frank-N-Furter from the Rocky Horror Picture show, but the same vivid green as his gloves. He wore a tight green speedo and garters. The glittery green fishnet stockings completed his ensemble. That and the fabulous make-up Marron had done. The woman deserved an Oscar.

Goten wished that Trunks would see him the way Goten knew the other gay guys Marron had invited would see him, but Trunks was straight. Goten thought. Trunks’s sex life was shrouded in mystery. He had learned very young, thanks to his poly parents, that it was a good plan to learn to mask one’s chi while fucking. So Goten had never felt Trunks get so much as a blowjob. And it wasn’t because he hadn’t tried to sense it.

He scrutinized his beautiful best friend. Trunks’s bare chest glittered now from his hat and probably all the pretty, bedazzled girls that had hung on him all night. All intriguingly gone now. The poker game had been going on since things wound down a little. It was mostly Marron’s actual friends that were here now. And Goten was completely baffled that Trunks was still there.

Almost every party they went to in college, Goten would start chatting up some cute guy, and the next thing he knew, Trunks would be leaving with some sexy chick on his arm, without so much as a wave to Goten. They were seniors now and Trunks had never had a girlfriend. That made even less sense than Trunks remaining here, playing poker for chocolate coins, when he could have gone home with a dozen girls. Probably all at once if he wanted.

Goten had struck out. He thought he looked fabulous, but the appreciation for his cross-dressing wasn’t universal. The only guy he’d thought was hot was not vibing with Goten. Goten didn’t mind, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with a dude he didn’t like that much.

Goten had a few boyfriends throughout college, but most of them got jealous of _Trunks_ at some point. It was fucking irritating. There was no way Goten was going to stay with someone who would make him choose between them and his best friend. Not worth it.

“Why should I give you any of my wealth? I’m fucking broke. These coins are all I have. But you have so much fucking money that even if I made you get me back with _actual_ gold, it would mean _nothing_ to you. So…no,” Goten said with a shrug and sprawled his legs out. There was one gay guy left at the party. He wasn’t Goten’s type, but thinking about Trunks not noticing Goten his whole fucking life was making him feel like getting laid. Goten’s legs looked amazing in his fishnets and heels.

Trunks put his elbows on the table. “What if…what if I…I don’t know…I’ll think of something to make it up to you. Like nothing monetary. Because you’re right. Unless you want an island or something, I probably wouldn’t notice the dent.” He stared into Goten from under the brim of his hat. The glitter sparkled in the dim light, but so did Trunks’s eyes. Trunks smirked at him and it startled Goten. Trunks rarely looked _exactly_ like Vegeta, but he did in that moment. And it was scary. And thrilling. Sexy, even. Sexier, of course. 

Goten wondered what Trunks had in mind. Trunks was crazy busy, so Goten thought taking some of his rich best friend’s time might be fun. Goten held out his hand for Trunks to shake, but Trunks took his fingers and brought his knuckles to his lips. “Deal,” Goten breathed, shocked to his garters. The look in his best friend’s eyes was inscrutable.

Goten pushed a small pile of golden chocolate coins over to Trunks. Marron raised an eyebrow and said, “Do not go all in on everything, Trunks. For fuck’s sake, do you even know how to play Texas Hold ‘Em?”

“Just deal, Marron. I have a debt to pay if I don’t win it all back.”

“That was not the agreement. You owe me whether you clean house or not, dude. I’m not letting you off the hook. And there will be interest the longer you delay payment.”

Trunks said, “Damn, ‘Ten, a harsh lender. Tell you what, if you wipe me out again, I’ll double whatever repayment we devise, how’s that sound?”

“And if you actually figure out how to play poker?”

“Maybe then you _pay_ me back,” Trunks said, his blue eyes so intense as he leaned closer to Goten that Goten had a flash of thinking that Trunks was…hitting on him. 

Goten was curious enough about whatever had gotten into his best friend that he said, “You’re on, man. You suck hard at this game.”

Trunks inclined his head, lowering his eyelids, but they snapped back up, and he smirked. He said, “I do suck. Hard.”

Goten’s mouth went dry. He glanced at Marron, and her eyes were huge, glancing back and forth between them. Her girlfriend was also playing and knew Trunks and Goten both pretty well. She and Marron exchanged a look and a giggle. Trunks’s eyes never left Goten as he growled, “Deal the fucking cards, Marron.”

* * *

Goten regained all his coins in short order, to the point that he thought maybe Trunks was trying to lose. That or he really didn’t know how to play poker and was too embarrassed to say so. “Let’s go. I better start brainstorming some repayment methods. Fuck. I…might be too drunk to fly,” Trunks said, pushing up from the table. The few remaining people that didn’t know what Trunks and Goten were, likely just thought Trunks had a hover-car. Which was good.

He slung an arm over Goten’s shoulder and said, “You’ll help me out, right, ‘Ten? I don’t want to sleep on Marron’s floor again. You don’t mind?”

“Trunks, you’re just going to owe me a lot. Now I have to drag your drunk ass home, too?” Goten said, but he didn’t mind. Trunks and Goten had never left a party together, despite often arriving together. Goten waved to Marron and the others as he swaggered out of the party with Trunks drooped on him. Goten forgot that his best friend was wearing sexy knee-high black leather boots. Fucking Trunks. He could look good in anything. More gay guys looked at Trunks than at Goten. More women too. And it wasn’t as though Goten could blame them, given all the looking at Trunks he did himself.

But Trunks surprised Goten, lifting off using his own power, seeming less drunk the moment they were out of Marron’s building. Yet he kept his body close to Goten’s. Now that Goten thought about it. He hadn’t seen Trunks drink much at all. Goten had a light buzz, but nothing worthy of St. Patrick’s Day.

“See you later, man, you seem like you’re good to get home?”

Trunks dropped as soon as Goten said it. He caught Trunks and Trunks slurred, “Whoa…thought I was…but…guess not.”

Goten looked at his best friend suspiciously. Trunks didn’t smell drunk either. And Goten knew that smell. He knew all of Trunks’s smells. Now Trunks’s smell was all around him. “Are you fucking serious? You’re going to make me carry you home?” Goten said. He wanted to be indignant, but Trunks wrapped his arms around Goten’s neck and laid his head against his chest and shoulder.

It felt almost as if Trunks was smelling him. He touched down outside Trunks’s penthouse on the balcony. Trunks stayed motionless in his arms. “What are you doing? Get your keys out.”

“You do it,” Trunks mumbled.

Goten stood motionless for a minute. Trunks was not this drunk. Goten had no idea what to make of his best friend’s charade. He reached into his own pocket for his spare key. No way he was going to go rooting around in Trunks’s tiny little shorts’ pockets.

He carried Trunks in through his immaculate apartment and on to his bedroom. Trunks had inherited the best of both his parents. His father’s military precision and tidiness, Bulma’s brilliance and beauty. Vegeta’s body. Bulma’s sweetness. The persistence and the caginess came from both sides, and Trunks certainly had a double helping. Goten only wished he had half of that cunning so he could figure out what his best friend’s play was right now.

He set Trunks on his feet next to his bed. “You need a hand with your boots, buddy?”

Trunks stood and set one heel on the bench at the foot of his bed. He unzipped it, looking at Goten. He said, his voice clear now, not a slur in sight, “How should I pay you back, ‘Ten?”

Goten swallowed hard. Trunks sensually slid the boot off, the sock too. He dragged his hands up his sculpted leg and paused to unsnap his minuscule shorts. He slid the suspender off his shoulder. He shrugged the other off and swapped legs, putting the other one up on display. “Well? Any thoughts? Hmm?” Trunks finished dispensing with his boots and socks, leaving him in just those fucking shorts. Shorts that looked _tighter_ through the crotch.

Goten snapped his eyes up. He needed to not be staring at his best friend’s package, regardless of size or cloth-covering. Trunks dipped his thumbs inside the waistband of the shorts, slid them to the zipper that was all that stood between him and nudity. Goten knew his best friend well enough to know there was nothing under those shorts except the rest of his lavender treasure trail. And the treasure.

Goten’s eyes followed Trunks’s hands. He couldn’t even hear the zipper because of his own breathing. Goten closed his eyes and shook his head. “Um, I…Yeah. We’ll…We’ll figure it out tomorrow. Actually, um, yeah, I was just giving you shit. Don’t worry about it. See you, Trunks,” Goten said and turned for the door.

But Trunks was in front of him. Trunks tossed his fedora off onto his dresser. “Better help you with this at least,” Trunks whispered and tugged loose the cord bow at the top of Goten’s corset. Trunks’s eyes came up from the laces and while one hand unlaced the corset, the other held Goten’s chin. He slid his thumb back and forth across his lower lip. Goten wore bright red lipstick. “Probably should get all this off too. You want to hop in the shower? I could help you.”

Goten’s mouth fell open. He stammered, “W-What? Trunks? Did…did you do something harder than drinking? Like…are you okay? What’s wrong with you?”

Trunks leaned back a little, more of his hair falling loose now that the hat was off. He smirked at Goten. “Nothing. I think…I think maybe something’s right for the first time…maybe ever.”

Goten tried to take a step back, but Trunks took hold of his laces again. He pulled Goten toward his body. Goten realized with sudden horror that Trunks must be thinking about paying off the debt of a few chocolate coins with _sexual favors_. The thought made him want to puke. “No, Trunks, no, gross. Don’t…Don’t do this because of a poker game. You’re making me really uncomfortable. It’s…I…I know you’re not gay.”

“How do you know that, ‘Ten?” Trunks said, going back to working on the laces. “And this has nothing to do with poker.”

“Um…okay…so…you all of a sudden…want to shower together?”

Trunks’s eyes dropped and he focused on unlacing Goten, now dragging his fingers on Goten’s skin as he hooked them behind the cording. “You know, every single fucking party we have ever been to, some guy has been all over you from the minute we walk through the door. Did you know that?”

“W-w-what? I…No. I mean…maybe? I don’t know? W-w-what does that have to do with anything?” Goten spluttered. Trunks was getting lower. The corset was almost off. Goten, to his great shame, was getting hard. He needed Trunks to stop touching him.

Instead, Trunks took firm hold of his hips as the corset flapped open, the last eyelets unlaced, and steered him back toward the bed. Goten’s mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. No more “getting” about the hard. He had a full fucking erection. In a speedo. Trunks’s fingers slid down the length of his garters and unfastened them from the front of his stockings.

“Yeah, every single party since we were fifteen. You remember? You went into the spare room with that guy, and then the next morning you cried and came out to me, said you hoped I didn’t hate you. Said you hoped I wasn’t mad that you hadn’t told me sooner. Do you remember that, ‘Ten?” Trunks’s eyes were so intense. Goten couldn’t be sure, but he thought their were tears brimming on the lower lids.

“Um…yeah…Yeah, of course I remember coming out to you. You looked a little upset. But you didn’t like…shame…me or anything. I just figured maybe you were sad we couldn’t pick up chicks together or something.”

“Yeah. I know. You remember how you ran away? How you didn’t talk to me afterwards for like a month?” 

Goten nodded. That morning had been horrible. He had lost his virginity to an older guy, a human, obviously, and he’d had to _fake_ his orgasm to get it the guy to stop. Goten had never bottomed again after that. Even though the guy was a human, and not even that hung, Goten had been sore and bleeding. And ashamed. He did wish he had come out to Trunks sooner. Just to maybe have some support so he didn’t do dumb shit like let the first guy who said something nice to him fuck him in the ass. But he had let the first guy who said something nice to him fuck him in the ass. Never again, at least.

What Goten had wanted, was for Trunks to proclaim himself gay too, and then they would kiss, and Trunks would fall in love with him. And they would get married. And they would have a storybook romance. They would live happily ever after with a couple of kids and too many dogs, and probably a cat, because Trunks loved cats. But mostly their life would feel…complete. Full. Because they could be themselves with each other. Completely. Goten could go super Saiyan and fuck Trunks. Trunks could go super Saiyan and fuck Goten, but he would never hurt Goten. He would never rush Goten. 

Dreams didn’t come true though. Instead, when Goten told Trunks that he was gay and he’d had a bad experience and he felt like shit, Trunks had just gawked at him. Trunks looked so…disappointed. So upset. There had been something else too, in his beautiful, deep blue eyes. But Goten had run away before he could decipher it. It hurt to have his best friend be disappointed in him.

Trunks caressed Goten’s face and Goten cringed away, but he was close to the bed, so he fell backwards, fully displaying his speedo clad hard-on. Trunks didn’t say anything, but crawled onto the bed astride Goten and said, “Yeah. You broke my heart that day.”

“W-w-what? I…You’re…You’re _that_ homophobic?”

“No, of course not. I was waiting for you. I was trying to be respectful and let you figure yourself out without pushing you. You were younger than me. So I waited. And then you fucking let that pig have you. And…and I realized you’d never looked at me that way at all. You never saw me as attractive. I would always just be like a big brother to you. Just your best friend. Nothing more.”

Trunks snapped off the buttons holding up the back of his fishnets. He removed the garter belt. Goten’s breathing sped up. Trunks clearly had a hard-on too, outlined beautifully in his gold satin shorts. Goten tried to understand. “W-w-waited? What? What are you talking about? Waited for what?”

“For you to realize you were gay. I dreamed—once I realized what my feelings for you were, why I felt so confused when we sparred, why I always had wet dreams when you stayed overnight—I dreamed that you would fall in love with me too. I suspected you were gay but hadn’t pieced it together yet. But no matter how good I tried to look, your eyes always bolted away. I realized you didn’t want to see me that way. Until tonight. You couldn’t stop staring at me tonight. Or at least once that prick you were hitting on left, then you couldn’t stop staring at me. And beggars can’t be choosers.”

Goten’s head spun. Trunks was telling Goten that he…he had wanted Goten. Goten said, “So…you…like guys?”

“No. Not really. I like _you_ , ‘Ten. I want _you_. And if I can only have you this one night because you struck out and I owe you so you’re willing to tolerate—“

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Goten snarled, pushing up on his elbows to get in Trunks’s face, “I’m not taking sexual fucking favors for some godsdamned candy gold coins! I’m not…I…I…I would never _pay_ for sex, never! No matter how desperate. But definitely not with you! And definitely not with…with _fake_ money. Fake sex for fake money, for fuck’s sake, how pathetic do you think I am?”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic at all. But…” Trunks sat back on his heels. The tears Goten had suspected were there spilled down his cheeks. “I…I thought maybe this one time…since you were staring at me and you have a hard-on. I thought you’d put up with me for one night. You can pretend I’m someone else…”

A horrified noise escaped Goten. “What the _fuck_ , Trunks? I’m…I’m…No! I fucking pretend every other guy is _you_ , you fucking dumbass! What are you even saying to me? What?!”

Trunks’s eyes widened and he swiped at his tears. “You…you pretend guys are me?”

“Why were fucking disappointed in me when I came out to you if you…if you like me _like_ me? Is…Is that what you’re saying?” Goten stared at Trunks.

Trunks held his eyes and said, “You thought I was disappointed in you?”

“Yes! You were so downcast and obviously upset and—“

“‘Ten, you dumb motherfucker, I was jealous of that dumb bastard who hurt you and I was pissed off and I wanted to kill him for hurting you—“

“What?! Why…why didn’t you say that then!?” Goten shoved his best friend.

Trunks growled and pinned his arms on either side of his head. It was not helping Goten’s hard-on situation. Trunks growled, “Because I fucking thought you weren’t interested in me and I didn’t want to skeeve you out. So I left you alone. And you always had someone, so I just…I tried to let go, ‘Ten. But I want you. I always have…and…and when I saw you checking me out tonight, I thought maybe…maybe you’d let me.”

“Did you suck at poker on purpose so you could, I dunno, owe me a beej or something?” Goten said. An enormous amount of his mental energy and physical strength were focused on not frotting with Trunks.

“Initially, no. But then…then when you kept showing off your fucking legs and your pecs…just…everything, and eyeballing me every time I wasn’t looking. I just thought maybe it would get you to…to see me. Like…like as a viable option,” Trunks said and his eyes implored Goten.

Breathing rapidly became a problem. There was no mistaking what Trunks was saying to him. Goten almost couldn’t believe it except that there were so many tiny details that Goten would never imagine, not in his wildest fantasies. A rivulet of sweat ran down each of Trunks’s sides. Goten knew Trunks sweated excessively when he was nervous, but that wouldn’t be in a fantasy. There was a chunk of gold glitter in Trunks’s hair. A streak of red lipstick on his cheek from when Trunks had used his thumb to wipe tears away. Goten held Trunks’s eyes. Even though Trunks had him pinned to the bed, Goten was flexible. He lifted his torso up off the bed.

Once his face was close to Trunks’s beautiful, stunned face, Goten whispered, “If you want me to see you as a viable option, show me. Let me see you.”

Trunks eased off the bed wordlessly. He stood and skimmed his shorts down and off his legs, his thick cock popping free, a pretty thatch of lavender curls at its base. Still silent, he removed Goten’s speedo and tossed it over his shoulder. He crawled back on the bed, dropping between Goten’s legs.

He wrapped his wiry, muscular arms around Goten’s thighs, and pulled him to the edge of the bed. Goten was frantic to kiss Trunks to see if it was all real, but Trunks clearly had other plans. But it was like Trunks heard him, because once he’d positioned Goten with his heels on the edge of the bed, his ass practically hanging off, he stood up, curled over Goten, and kissed him.

At first it was experimental, just a press of their lips together, but when Goten’s lips parted the smallest amount, Trunks took his lower lip between his. The wet tip of his tongue ran along Goten’s captured lip, and then deftly slipped into Goten’s mouth. It flitted along his teeth before plunging farther and deeper, all while Trunks’s lips urged Goten’s mouth to open wider. To accept Trunks.

It was all Goten could do not to whimper with pleasure. He’d imagined kissing Trunks a million times, and it had never been so good. Goten was fairly certain he could come just from kissing his best friend. Trunks rubbed Goten’s nipples with his thumbs and Goten moaned, despite his best efforts to keep quiet. “Is it going to be like that, ‘Ten? Am I going to have to wring every sexy fucking noise out of you?” Trunks purred.

Goten grinned against Trunks’s lips. “Maybe. I’ve wanted you a long fucking time, Trunks. It seems only fair that you should have to work for it.”

Trunks’s sexy smirk lit Goten’s insides on fire. Lavender hair spilled around his face as he looked down at their cocks and gripped them both in his hand, finally, blissfully frotting with Goten. He panted, rocking harder, “I’m going to work so hard to make it up to you, ‘Ten. Let me make it up to you.”

Trunks’s prick rendered Goten speechless. It was like their dicks were made to press together. Goten did whimper now, and Trunks kissed him hungrily before sucking and biting down his neck, down his chest, down his belly. The frotting went away, but the anticipation of what Trunks was about to do made up for his disappointment. His best friend’s beautiful blue eyes found his as he took Goten’s length deep in his mouth, sucking hard, just as he said at the party. His tongue curled around Goten’s head, probing his slit, and racing up and down the underside of Goten’s shaft.

Trunks moaned on Goten’s cock and Goten gasped, “Oh gods, no, don’t…don’t do that. I’ll come. I’m sorry, I…shit, Trunks!” Trunks moaned more, clenching his throat muscles around Goten’s head, and deep-throated with such alacrity that Goten decided Trunks must have sucked some serious dick. Goten fought his orgasm, tried to hold on, because he wanted Trunks. He wanted Trunks so badly that a blowjob just wouldn’t be enough. But Trunks, ever Vegeta’s son, was fucking relentless. Goten kicked at the edge of the bed as he fucked up into Trunks’s mouth. Trunks slid his hands under Goten’s ass and helped him. Goten’s cum rocketed into Trunks and Trunks didn’t wince or gag or anything.

Goten shuddered as he became hyper-sensitive and Trunks eased off his prick. Trunks squeezed his ass and kissed the front of each hip. “Your prick tastes better than I imagined, ‘Ten.”

“I…am still in shock that you imagined sucking my dick,” Goten said softly, caressing Trunks’s face. 

Trunks smiled and it warmed Goten’s heart. He kissed the inside of each of Goten’s thighs and slithered back up his body to kiss him on the mouth. “I imagined a lot of other things too, ‘Ten.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Goten breathed.

“Like burying my face in your perfect ass and licking you until you beg me to fuck you. Like fucking you nice and slow and deep until you couldn’t hold back any longer, and leaning back, watching you come all over yourself. Coming inside you finally, like I’ve dreamed. Forever. Like you fucking me fast and rough. Like holding you in my arms while we sleep. Waking up beside you. Kissing you. Touching you. Just…being with you.” 

“Trunks…for fuck’s sake,” Goten said and he felt his cheeks catch fire.

“You asked,” Trunks said with another little smirk and a deep kiss.

Goten searched the blue eyes he thought he knew so well. He whispered, “It…it sounds like you want to be with me. Like…together? Like…boyfriends?”

“Hell fucking yes I want to be your boyfriend, ‘Ten. More than that, someday, I hope,” Trunks said, kissing Goten more. He still held Goten’s ass and now he pulled their hips together. Goten’s prick never went soft and the thought of being with another Saiyan made him breathless with excitement. Neither of them would go soft until they were ready. Until they were sated. 

Goten said, “You…you want to fuck me?”

“Yeah, I always have. I wish I could go back and tell you before that asshole hurt you, ‘Ten. I hope no one else has hurt you,” Trunks said and brushed some of Goten’s wild spikes of hair out of his face. He lifted Goten easily and moved him farther on the bed so they could spread out. 

“No. No one else. I’ve only bottomed that one time even though…even though it’s my preference,” Goten said, embarrassed.

Trunks kissed over his chest and shoulders and jaw and finally back onto his mouth. “So if I’m careful, you want me?”

“Yeah, oh fuck, yeah. I want you so bad, Trunks,” Goten panted out, rolling their hips together.

Goten watched Trunks lube his cock and his fingers. Trunks’s confident fingers lightly explored Goten’s pucker and taint. As he pulsed his fingertips on Goten’s bud, Goten groaned. The sound made Trunks’s face light up, though his gaze was rapt on Goten’s body.

When Trunks slid a finger inside him at last, he was so hungry for it that he considered just grabbing Trunks’s wrist and finger-fucking himself to completion with his best friend’s hand. He made do with lifting his hips up to meet the slow, easy thrusts. “Trunks, I’m…I’m pretty pent up. Fuck. Please…I…I want your prick, beautiful.”

Trunks’s big blue eyes went wide when Goten called him that. He lined his dick up and said, “Are you sure, I don’t want to hurt you, ‘Ten.”

“I’m yours, Trunks. Make me yours,” Goten rasped. He no longer cared if Trunks thought he was a moron or it was too much. Trunks had confessed himself and his wishes, Goten could too.

Trunks inched his prick inside Goten, both of them taking big, slow breaths. “‘Ten, you are so fucking tight. You feel amazing. You okay, baby?”

“Yeah, fuck, yeah, amazing,” Goten whispered.

Trunks continued his slow, careful plunge and it took a little time, because Trunks’s cock was huge. Goten’s body seemed to crave it though, like he could feel himself opening up and relaxing even though Trunks was much bigger than any dildo Goten owned. Once he was seated with the entire length of his shaft inside Goten, he pulled Goten’s legs up over his shoulders and pulsed against Goten’s p-spot. 

“‘Ten, you feel fucking incredible. And you’re so sexy all the time, but tonight you were gorgeous. I love you so much. Just so much. I’m sorry I wasn’t brave before this. I’m so sorry.”

Goten’s eyes popped open. Trunks gazed at him without fear or hesitation. Goten stammered, “L-l-love? I…Yeah?”

“Yeah. Always,” Trunks purred and eased back out until his head was the only thing still inside Goten. He drove back in slowly and steadily, but hit Goten’s spot hard. It was merciless, the way he began slowly fucking Goten. He hadn’t been kidding about the slow and deep.

Goten fucked himself in the ass with dildos on a pretty regular basis, but it had never felt anything like this. Goten breathed, “I love you too, beautiful. You’re fucking amazing, Trunks. Fuck me harder?”

Trunks smirked and slammed into him. Goten cried out. Trunks rolled his hips and crashed against Goten's ass again and again, drawing more cries and moans and Goten writhed, his hands clutching at the sheets, at Trunks’s muscular thighs, and finally, as Trunks curled over him, at his face, his silky, purple hair. Trunks growled into a fierce kiss, “Come for me, baby. I want to fill you.”

Goten obeyed. He had been waiting his whole life to hear Trunks say those words to him and it was an irresistible command. Goten’s cum splattered them both, belly button to chin, and Trunks roared and kissed him and bashed against him as he came deep in Goten’s core. Without ever stopping his fucking, he bit the join of Goten’s neck and shoulder hard enough to break skin and draw blood.

Goten expected agony from such a deep bite, but instead, new ecstasy bloomed through his body and he gasped, “Fucking gods, yes! Oh gods!” He came again with deep, shuddering pulses of cum.

Saliva poured into his mouth and his mind blanked except the desperate, aching need to bite Trunks. To mark him. To claim him. Goten shifted, rolled Trunks onto his back, and smeared his cum all over his cock. “I’m going to fuck you, Trunks,” Goten panted.

“Yes. Fuck, yes. Now, now, now. Deep and rough, now!” Trunks pleaded, pulling his knees up by his head. Goten delved two fingers inside Trunks, pumping them hard against his prostate and scissoring them to stretch his mate. His mate. The words resounded in his head like a universal truth. Like the answer to every question. Trunks was his mate. Trunks said, “Now, baby. Please. I’m going to die without your prick in me. Please!”

Goten withdrew his fingers and lined himself up, driving his cock into Trunks in one long, fast plunge. Goten pistoned into the tight, slick heat of his mate’s ass and hissed, “Fuck, Trunks…I won’t last.”

Trunks made the most fantastic noises Goten had ever heard. His mate whined and cried out and groaned and panted for him and it was the hottest thing Goten had ever experienced. He fucked Trunks harder, ascending to super Saiyan. Blue eyes snapped open and turned aqua, the black pupil disappearing. They slammed together like it was battle and Trunks groaned, “Fucking claim me, baby. I need you forever. You're mine. You’re fucking _vkai_!” 

Goten hadn’t heard Trunks use Saiyan in ages and it felt so primal and passionate that Goten’s cock responded, filling Trunks. Ecstasy roared out from his center and he bent and bit Trunks’s neck savagely. Trunks whimpered and added to their mess. High pitched cries still erupted out of Trunks. Goten licked at the bloody wound on his mate’s neck and said, “You’re going to make me come again if you keep sounding so fucking hot, Trunks.”

Trunks shivered beneath Goten and turned his mouth into a kiss. Goten reveled in the taste of their blood mixing together. They kissed and smiled and held each other. Goten stayed inside Trunks, not wanting to separate from his mate.

They dozed and eventually Trunks muttered, “I guess I still owe you.”

“Nah, you’re golden. I figure if we’re mates, we share all our resources anyway, right? So my chocolate coins are your chocolate coins.” They laughed and got up to get ready for bed.

When they climbed into bed, Goten spooned Trunks and buried his face in the lavender hair he loved so well. He kissed his mating mark. Trunks was already asleep and Goten loved the feel of their bodies together at last. Goten smiled against his mate’s skin, thinking that those cheap fake coins he’d slid across the table to Trunks were the best investment he’d ever made. He had all the treasure he could ever want in the universe, right in his arms.


	4. Somewhere Under the Rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta's training near Piccolo's home gets waylaid by the aftermath of a storm.

Piccolo watched Vegeta training. It was perfunctory now, more to keep in shape than anything, Piccolo supposed. There hadn’t been any threats to the universe in years. Piccolo pondered what precipitated this shift in Vegeta’s behavior, though he wished he could just ignore the little Saiyan. Vegeta hadn’t trained near Piccolo’s meditation spot by the big waterfall in many years. Piccolo didn't even know if Vegeta registered his presence or Piccolo’s small house nearby, but Piccolo would find the strength to kick his ass if the little fucker messed up his house.

Back-floating nude in the pool at the base of his waterfall, Piccolo could see, thanks to his sharp Namek vision, that Vegeta looked distressed today. Every day for the last few weeks, in fact. Piccolo had always been a curious creature, but he refused to try to suss out why the fuck Vegeta was here, day after day, training on his own, or why the little Saiyan looked on the verge of mental collapse. Where was Goku? Why wasn’t Vegeta with Whis and Beerus?

A massive storm had rolled through minutes earlier, soaking Piccolo so thoroughly that he saw no reason to stay on dry land. It was one of those summer showers that swooped in and out suddenly and with such force that it felt surreal. The sky had blackened and dumped and then the sunlight broke through and everything glittered and sparkled, wet and washed clean of the dust of hot, dry summer days.

As Piccolo alternated watching the fast-moving charcoal clouds and Vegeta, the sun hit something just right and a huge, vivid rainbow unfurled across the still dark and ominous cloud cover to the west. Piccolo sat up in the water as a second, fainter rainbow bloomed and echoed the first. Without thinking, Piccolo shouted, “Vegeta! Hey! Vegeta, check it out!”

Vegeta spun with such enormous eyes that Piccolo surmised the small Saiyan had not known that Piccolo was there. Vegeta was beside him in an instant hovering above the water. Piccolo extended his arm and gestured to the double rainbow. “Look!”

Vegeta turned and a rare smile, not a smirk, but a completely unabashed grin split his face. “Fuck me, look at that. It’s beautiful.”

Piccolo smirked. _I certainly would_ , he thought, looking Vegeta up and down. He wore skintight navy pants and a clingy tank; Vegeta’s fashion sense hadn’t changed at all over the years. Neither had Piccolo’s desire for the small Saiyan. Vegeta turned and caught Piccolo ogling the ass that had always fueled Piccolo’s fantasies. Piccolo felt his cheeks catch fire.

Vegeta blushed too, which intrigued Piccolo. “What are you doing out here, Vegeta?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“You could, but you could also just figure it out if you spent about two minutes noticing your surroundings instead of…ruminating and blowing shit up.”

Vegeta opened his mouth. Closed it. He crossed his arms tightly and looked around. When his eyes found Piccolo’s house high on the hill above the waterfall, tucked away in the trees, he blushed a deeper red. His eyes fell and searched the ground. He turned to Piccolo, looking…furtive. “Is…is that your home?” Vegeta said, unusually timid. Unusually…polite.

“Yeah, it is. And you have been fucking destroying my property.”

Vegeta’s mouth dropped open and he breathed, “Oh shit.”

“Yup. That’s one thing you could say,” Piccolo said, crossing his arms.

Vegeta’s eyes met his and he flushed again. “I…sorry. I…it …it didn’t occur to me that you would…own…it. Or be here.”

Piccolo gave Vegeta his most laid back half-smile. He didn't actually want Vegeta to feel bad. He just wanted…What did he want? He supposed he wanted the Saiyan to _notice_ him. “It’s fine. But maybe now you can answer my question. What are you doing out here at all? Why aren’t you using the GR or training with Whis?”

Vegeta grumbled, “The GR is no use to me now. And as for anything else…Well. I…I needed…distance.”

“From…Whis?”

“No, from everything. But I don’t intend to follow that path.”

“What path?”

“The path to becoming the next God of Destruction.”

“Really? Why not? That seems very…Vegeta.”

Vegeta chuckled and his trademark smirk appeared. Gods that smirk was sexy. Piccolo was suddenly acutely aware that he was naked. He could clothe himself, of course, but that would only draw attention to his nudity as long as he was still in the water.

Vegeta said, “There was a time when nothing would have made me happier. And I would have been terrible. Not much would remain if young Vegeta was given that mantle. No. Now…I no longer want eternal life.”

“Wow, who broke you?”

“What?” Vegeta asked, perplexed, cocking his head to the side.

“I just never imagined you’d want anything _but_ eternal life and infinite strength. What happened? Is this just about Goku always staying a hair ahead of you?”

Vegeta shook his head. “No. No, for once, I didn’t think about him. No. I only realized that…what I really want, I have never really had. I don’t know if I can have it at this late stage in my life, but…I returned to Earth to do, hmmm…what do the Earthlings call it…Saiyans say ‘ _alet neem ekuut ya aiya.’_ It translates roughly as ‘to look deeply for the root of one’s soul.’ I don’t know what Earthlings would say.”

“Soul-searching, I think. Trying to find…purpose. Or something. Peace, maybe.”

“Indeed. Something along those lines, but I think…I certainly don’t _deserve_ what I want, in my soul, but that is never much the concern of the universe, is it?”

Piccolo gazed for a moment at the double rainbow. The fainter of the two faded away as he stared. So ephemeral. “No, the universe doesn’t care about a fucking thing.”

“Exactly. So why not try for a thing, even if I don’t deserve it?”

“Sure. Go for it. I guess. Whatever ‘it’ is, Vegeta. But what does that have to do with you pout-blasting my forests and moraines and meadows?”

“Pout-blasting! Fucking hell, I’m not…pouting!”

“Okay…soul-search-blasting sounds a bit too nice. Confusion-blasting?”

Vegeta rolled his eyes and smirked again. “Close enough.”

“Okay, so?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don't know? If you don't know, would you fucking stop? You’re very destructive and I can’t really see a purpose to it. It’s not like you're getting stronger turning my property into a desert.”

Vegeta scowled. “Maybe it isn't about strength.”

“Well what the fuck was it about then? You’re kind of pissing me off with all your cryptic bullshit. Is it just about destruction? Go be a god and destroy planets then! What are you doing out here, Vegeta? You haven’t been out here in a really long time, and things were pretty different the last time you were out here, though you wrecked shit up then too,” Piccolo snarled. Back then there had been no house. Back then, Piccolo lived off the land. Back then, Piccolo foolishly believed someone could love him.

When Vegeta first found himself stranded on Earth, Piccolo saw how broken he was by everything that had come to pass first on Earth, then on Namek. And Piccolo was drawn to that…sadness. That need to put oneself back together. Piccolo _recognized_ it. Whatever existed between them flared more suddenly than Piccolo expected, one minute they were training, grappling, and the next minute, Vegeta was shredding Piccolo’s gi and sucking him off. They fucked each other into the ground, biting, and scratching, being the animals they were, in their souls.

The months that followed were passionate and intense and Piccolo fell in love with Vegeta in a way he didn’t know was possible. They fought and fucked with equal ferocity and Piccolo was happy for the first time in his life. But Vegeta wasn’t. Piccolo couldn’t smother Vegeta's misery, it simply burned too hot. Piccolo poured himself on those flames again and again, but in the end, Vegeta’s wildfire despair turned Piccolo to ash.

Vegeta left him and wound up rebounding with Bulma, or whatever the small Saiyan and Bulma had had together. Piccolo never questioned what Vegeta had with Bulma because Piccolo was too badly burned. He slid into the background of Vegeta's life, like a looming green shadow. Like a memory that Vegeta couldn't quite shake. They found occasional camaraderie when forced into it by circumstance, but mostly Piccolo steered clear of that fire, not sure he could rise like a phoenix a second time from the ashes of his broken heart.

But the fire found him again, and Piccolo’s flammability hadn’t changed in all the years since then. He told himself he didn’t know how many years. Piccolo looked away from Vegeta and walked up onto the bank of the river, magicking clothes onto himself as soon as he was out. Piccolo’s treacherous mind considered whether Vegeta remembered his body. Remembered the way his skin felt. They way they fit each other so well, despite the disparity in their size.

“If you don’t know why you’re here, stop fucking everything up out here. I’ve spent a long time putting things together, this is my home now. So unless you have a really good fucking reason, go find someplace else to torch!” Piccolo said. He hated that he was breathing hard. He hated that he was almost in tears. He hated that Vegeta still made him _feel_ so fucking much. He hated that his heart sped up every time Vegeta looked at him. Every time they spoke. Every time Piccolo allowed himself to hope there was something in those looks.

Vegeta’s eyes fell and searched the ground for a long time, long enough for Piccolo to feel awkward and question whether he should speak more. He had already said too much. He had revealed his weakness. His memory. The embarrassing fact that he still held on to the hurt from all those years ago. Not only hurt.

When Vegeta’s eyes came back up to meet Piccolo’s gaze, his eyebrows formed a little peak of worry in the middle. He whispered, “Do you think something…something beautiful and wonderful and _right_ can happen twice? Can it last? Or is it doomed, like the double rainbow? Can it last? Can a person hold on to such a thing? What if they let it slip the first time? Can they do better if they luck into a second chance? Is it possible?”

Piccolo froze as Vegeta stared into him. Vegeta stepped closer. Piccolo said nothing. He had said too much already. He didn’t dare embellish Vegeta’s words in his mind, imbue them with meaning that might not be there. Vegeta stared into Piccolo, his eyes the same dark fire they always had been. He said, “I kept trying to discover in my heart, in my soul, what it was that kept me from wanting to replace Beerus. There’s nothing for me on Earth anymore. Trunks is grown, Bulla needs no one, not even her mother, and Bulma was done with me years ago. I’ll never best Kakarot. So why? Why couldn’t I sever ties and become what seemed to be my destiny?”

“I have no fucking idea. It really does seem like the perfect job for you,” Piccolo said, unable to help the half-smile that quirked up his mouth on one side.

Vegeta chuckled. He quickly turned serious again. “I told Whis I needed time to think. So I came back to Earth, but you…were gone.”

Piccolo’s eyebrows rose in surprise at this statement, shocked to his core that he had been any part of Vegeta coming back to Earth. That Vegeta had looked for him. Piccolo long ago learned to mask his chi entirely after Goku popped in on him having sex with a human. Piccolo didn’t really care, but the human certainly had, and it pissed Piccolo off to have his date run off screaming into the night. So he perfected making his energy invisible.

“Oh. Um. Yeah. Goku’s kind of a pain in the ass with his IT. Once I figured out how to…mute…myself, I never unmuted. No real reason to allow anyone to find me,” Piccolo said and shrugged, “Why would you look for me? I don’t have any fucking advice to give you about your fucking midlife crisis, Vegeta. Do what you want. You always have.”

Vegeta said softly, “No. I wasn’t seeking advice.”

“Okay. What then? Looking to just…visit?” Piccolo crossed his arms again, anything to keep Vegeta from seeing his hands were shaking.

“No. I seek forgiveness, I think. And…I wondered if there is anything left,” Vegeta whispered.

“Forgiveness? For what?” Piccolo said, deliberately ignoring the second part of Vegeta’s explanation. The way Vegeta broke Piccolo wasn’t really the sort of thing to be forgiven. It was more complicated than that because he didn’t think Vegeta meant to incinerate him back then. No. Piccolo couldn’t forgive Vegeta because Vegeta couldn't really apologize. The only apology that could mend a charred heart was love. It earned no forgiveness, only love in turn. And Piccolo knew that wasn’t what Vegeta sought.

“Everything. For every mistake I made. For…for letting it go,” Vegeta said and held out his hands as if looking to see if there was anything in them, “For not holding on tight.” Vegeta clenched his fists, still staring at them. “For not seeing soon enough that you have to hold on to good things or they slip away.”

Piccolo opened his mouth to speak, but shook his head instead. He couldn’t fathom what Vegeta hoped to accomplish by coming here spouting nonsense. “I still don’t see how you fucking up my property is a good solution to your…guilt? Or whatever.”

“I didn’t know it was your property. I didn’t know _you_ were here. I was destroying shit out of frustration.”

“About not finding…me?” Piccolo said and pointed at himself, annoyed that his trembling showed in the finger. He hurriedly tucked it back in the crook of his elbow.

“Yes, Piccolo, you. I’ve been looking for you for fucking months but without your chi…Well. I'm not good at finding anyone without that, I’ve become reliant on it. So I came here…hoping if I made enough of a ruckus you might find _me_. And you did.”

Piccolo chuckled and shook his head. “Wow. You’re a fucking moron. I’ve been here. Every day you trained out here, I’ve been here. You never noticed me?”

“As I mentioned, lack of chi makes me…blind. I should have tried to do better after Android 18 wrecked me with such ease and joy.”

“Learning from your mistakes isn’t really your style, though,” Piccolo said.

Vegeta nodded with a faint smile. “No. But…well…maybe…maybe I could _learn_ to learn from mistakes. With appropriate motivation.”

“And what would that motivation be, if not almost dying to the same sort of stupidity over and over again wasn’t motivating?” Piccolo said, smiling as he raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“You know I’ve never much valued my own life much beyond a basic cowardice. Self-preservation fills me with shame and stupidity, usually. No…I’m thinking of the motivation to try to get the thing that I’ve wanted most of my life. A thing I had a tenuous grasp on long ago and let get away from me out of a similar sort of blindness.”

“Blindness? To what?” Piccolo said, “And stop being all…metaphorical. Just fucking say what you want to say. You’re pissing me off.”

Vegeta chortled and said, “This is why I love you. I never saw what we had when I was in it. Only once I’d lost you and hurt you and destroyed what we had, did I see it for what it was and I’ve never stopped…regretting…that. So when Whis said it was time to decide, that if there was nothing tying me to my mortal life, the transition could happen…I realized there _was_ something tying me to my mortal life.”

Piccolo’s mouth dropped open again and Vegeta shocked him more as he reached out and gently pushed it closed. He pulled his hand away, but only after caressing Piccolo’s jaw. “You…what? Did…did you just say you…love me? Poor choice of words, Vegeta. A dick move,” Piccolo said, his throat tightening. Piccolo breathed through the surge of unwanted feelings, the ache in his chest and the sting in his nose. Worst of all was the annoying hope. Piccolo had suddenly become carbonated, potential for happiness like bubbles stuck all over his insides, only waiting to rise up into joyful foam if Vegeta opened him up again.

Vegeta got in Piccolo’s face as much as he could, rising up on his tip-toes, which made it significantly less threatening, and said, “It was the only _possible_ choice of words to be accurate, Piccolo.”

“Don’t fucking say that. Look, you moved on. You have your life, you have your kids, go be a fucking god, Vegeta. Go live the fucking dream.”

“I’m telling you that I finally woke up. I don’t want that. It’s not the dream. I don’t want to dream anyway. I want something _real_. I want _you_. I have always wanted you. I just…I didn’t…I didn’t know _how_ after all that I did. All the ways I fucked up. The callow way I fucked out my sadness on the poor woman, and then stayed, wielding her like a shield because it was easier to be with her than to disappoint you!” Vegeta growled.

Piccolo lost it, tears spilled out of him, and he said in a low shaking voice, “Don’t say this to me. Don’t fucking taunt me after half a fucking lifetime of…of…of missing you!”

“Half, my ass, I know Nameks are long-lived like Saiyans—“

“You stupid son of a bitch, you’re going to fucking _argue_ with me about something that is very much not the point!? You _never_ disappointed me, Vegeta. Not in the way you imagine. My only disappointment was just…just…just that you wouldn’t let me fucking love you! I loved you so much, and you threw it in my fucking face every fucking day!” Piccolo sobbed now. He hated that Vegeta still turned him into a blubbering mess. How had so many years passed and Piccolo never felt any less in love with Vegeta?

Vegeta cupped his face and brushed his tears away. He pulled Piccolo down and bumped foreheads, Piccolo’s antennae dodging out of the way, not willing to give that to Vegeta. Not now. “Would you try again? Let me love you, Piccolo. Because I didn’t know how back then. I didn’t know a single fucking thing. Because if I had known anything, I never would have hurt you the way I did. I never would have left.”

“Fuck you,” Piccolo said through his waning sobs.

“I’d like that, yes,” Vegeta said, smirking, their faces still touching. “Please…I’ve searched my soul, Piccolo, and all I want, in the entire universe isn’t immortality or infinite strength or divinity, it’s just you. What remains of our mortal lives _together_ is the only thing my heart and my soul and my mind and my body desire. I gave up an eternity for you,” Vegeta whispered.

Piccolo breathed, “But why? You were never happy with me.”

“I was, I just didn’t know it. I couldn’t see it or feel it under all the other shit that was destroying me. Moments with you, time in your arms and in your presence are what I circle back to again and again when I think about how I would spend my life now that I’ve tried to remedy some of my crimes.”

“What will you do if I say no?”

“Probably be a huge pain in your ass until you change your mind, but…I…I think you were happy too, Piccolo. And you have a sadness in you that has never dissipated over the years. I can’t help but wonder whether if I caused that wound, I might also heal it,” Vegeta murmured and floated up, closing the distance and releasing Piccolo from his slump. Vegeta’s eyes searched Piccolo’s as he came level with Piccolo, the air all around them as electric as if Vegeta was trying to transform. And maybe he was. “I’ll never hurt you again.”

Piccolo didn’t resist when Vegeta tipped his head and brushed his lips over Piccolo’s. The fire remained, hot as ever, and Piccolo rushed into the flames, his arms snaking around Vegeta’s tiny waist and crushing him against Piccolo’s big body. He opened his mouth desperately for Vegeta. Vegeta moaned and held Piccolo’s face in his hands, his tongue tasting Piccolo. He nudged their foreheads together in the kiss.

Piccolo hesitated. Then he pressed his antennae tight against the smooth skin of Vegeta’s forehead. Vegeta was still an inferno. The fire that ripped into Piccolo now, though, was not misery. It was love and lust. A need to warm Piccolo, not incinerate him. Piccolo startled it was all so overwhelming, but comforting too. There was no lying this way. Only the truth could travel between minds.

Vegeta’s tears mixed with his, and there was regret and apology in the fire too. Piccolo murmured, “Don’t be a dick this time, baby.”

“No, the only dick this time will be the object itself.”

Piccolo laughed and slid his hands onto Vegeta’s full, taut ass. He rethought their position and pushed them inside Vegeta’s tight training pants to really feel Vegeta. Vegeta kissed Piccolo more and then dragged his mouth to Piccolo’s ear, sucking it and letting his tongue dart inside. He gasped, “You could just dispense with clothing altogether. It’s been a long time, but I haven’t forgotten any of your tricks.”

Piccolo closed his eyes and their clothes evaporated, leaving their naked bodies tight together. Vegeta wrestled Piccolo to the sandy bank of the river, not that Piccolo put up much resistance, but he put up a little, just for fun. He slithered down Piccolo’s body and swallowed Piccolo’s cock whole, like he was starving. Like the first time. Piccolo groaned, “Fuck, you never do anything half-assed, do you?”

Vegeta didn’t answer, only slowly shook his head as he bobbed up and down the length of Piccolo’s prick, slipping a finger inside him at the same time. He fingered Piccolo harder, deeper, adding a second quickly and scissoring them. Vegeta pulled off his cock, breathless and red-faced, and said, “I want to fuck you, my love. I missed you and I want to do everything, but I’m starved for you.”

“Bet you’re just starved for sex in general, baby,” Piccolo said with a half-smile.

“No one has ever fit me like you do,” Vegeta said. He wrapped his arm around one of Piccolo’s legs and held it over his shoulder as he shifted into position. Piccolo used magic to make more lube and Vegeta shivered at the sensation of lube beading out of his cock.

Vegeta thrust into him hard, slamming himself balls deep in one fast motion. Piccolo shuddered and groaned, “Holy shit, Vegeta…”

Vegeta rolled his hips, hammering Piccolo’s spot, breathing raggedly, and sweat dripped down onto Piccolo’s torso. His dark eyes fluttered shut as his mouth came open, crying out with every thrust. “Gods, my love, you are so fucking tight. I could die happy inside you.”

“Yeah, but don’t, okay? That’d be weird,” Piccolo panted out, grinning as Vegeta cracked an eye and gave him a little fake glare. Piccolo wondered, when he fantasized about this, about Vegeta coming back to him, if they would slip back into the ease they’d always had together.

Vegeta growled, “No, I won’t, because you won’t get rid of me so easily. You’re mine, my love, and I’ll take care of you.” Vegeta’s mouth crushed Piccolo’s as he pushed Piccolo’s leg against his body.

“Lucky I’m flexible, baby, but put the other up so you can fuck me like you actually missed me,” Piccolo said and nipped at Vegeta’s jaw as he turned to kiss the inside of Piccolo’s knee.

Vegeta did as Piccolo requested, folding him in half. It meant he could fuck Piccolo so hard. Which he did. Vegeta’s prick really did fit Piccolo perfectly and every plunge sent fireworks rippling out from Piccolo’s core. Vegeta rasped, “Come for me, my love. I miss watching you come.”

Piccolo’s body shook as Vegeta pummeled his prostate, finally stopping deep inside Piccolo and pulsing in his core. Vegeta kissed him savagely and Piccolo’s released roared through his body. His ass gripped Vegeta’s cock and Vegeta growled, “Your ass, my love, is all the divinity I need.”

“Fucking fill me, baby. Come for me,” Piccolo groaned, clutching at Vegeta’s perfect ass.

Vegeta dipped to press his forehead to Piccolo’s again and Piccolo curled up to meet him, a necessity with their height disparity. The sensation of his lover coming was so hot that an enormous aftershock shook Piccolo. Vegeta cried out and gradually slowed his thrusts until he stopped inside Piccolo, but kissed him with an open mouth and eager tongue. Piccolo knew they weren’t done. This was just foreplay.

So it startled him when Vegeta eased out of his ass and stood up with a kiss. The unbearable heat of loss roared through Piccolo. Vegeta said, “I have something for you, I’ll be back in a second.” He touched his forehead with two fingers and was gone.

Piccolo gaped, holding his breath, trying not to freak out when a second turned into ten. Then twenty. As it approached a minute, Vegeta popped back into existence by the waterfall. It was almost the exact spot where he had first kissed Piccolo. He strode to Piccolo now with a subdued smile and his hand behind his back.

He dropped to his knees between Piccolo’s sprawled legs. He picked Piccolo up and kissed him deeply, settling him on Vegeta’s lap so their still-hard cocks could slide against one another. “What was that about?” Piccolo said, “Kind of a jerk move to leave right after fucking me for the first time in forever.”

“I know, but I don’t want to wait.”

“Wait for what?”

Vegeta brought his hand out from behind his back in a fist between them. Before he unclenched his fingers from whatever they were holding, he said, “I know that we were drawn to each other as being apart from everything here. That we both longed for a…a place in the universe. I don’t want to look anymore. I want to consider it found. This is our place. Our home. And all I need is you to feel complete. So…I…I want us to be…to be Earthlings—“

“Okay, but you hate Earthlings—“

“Yes, well, but not _you._ But…but…perhaps…Can…I’m very nervous, can you just fucking let me finish?” Vegeta said.

Piccolo saw it was true, Vegeta’s hand shook. Vegeta’s eyes were worried. Piccolo nodded and Vegeta continued, “I…As a Saiyan, I want you as my mate, and I…I want to be yours, as a Namek. But I also thought…this is our life. And I want it. I want all of it, so…would you…would you marry me? Like an Earthling?” Vegeta unfurled his hand and opened the small black velvet box.

Piccolo’s jaw dropped in surprise. Vegeta openly disdained nearly every bit of human culture he encountered. Nothing told Piccolo that he wanted to change and do better more than this. Turning down a job as a god was one thing, but Vegeta accepting Earthling culture was far more momentous. Like Piccolo was important enough to put aside his distaste for Earthling nonsense.

The ring itself was beautiful, a strange silver-blue metal that almost glowed and an infinity symbol raised in a darker, almost black metal on the top. In one loop there was a sapphire, in the other, an emerald.

Vegeta pointed with a shaking finger and said, “The emerald is you, the sapphire is me, and…and forever, yes? Infinity? And infinite love.”

Piccolo looked up into Vegeta’s eyes, still mute with shock. He breathed, “Oh fuck…Yes. Yes, Vegeta, I’ll fucking marry you.”

“That’s what I’d like to print on our invitations: ‘I’ll fucking marry you,’” Vegeta said with a little smirk.

“Invitations?” Piccolo wheezed out.

“Don’t you…don’t Earthlings have a sort of ceremony? We get dressed up and people watch us kiss or something along those lines? Bulma and I never did it that way, but ours was perfunctory, a legal technicality for the children. With you, I want to do it…how do you say…all out?”

Piccolo laughed and fell back off Vegeta’s lap. Vegeta followed, rolling his hips against Piccolo’s and frotting. He pulled Piccolo’s hand to his and slid the ring onto Piccolo’s finger. He said, “It looks beautiful on you, my love.”

Piccolo said, “You’re insane, you know that?”

“I am crazy about you, yes. I only wish I’d been brave sooner. I wasted a lot of years afraid you would reject me if I came crawling back.”

“So you flew back and blew shit up? That is just like you,” Piccolo said and wrapped his arms around Vegeta’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. Vegeta rolled onto his back and pulled Piccolo with him, lifting Piccolo’s lower body easily to help him mount Vegeta’s cock.

Piccolo spread his hands open on Vegeta’s chest and started to move. He grinned and said, “First time fucking my fiancée—“

“What the fuck is that?” Vegeta said, but threw his head back as he bucked up into Piccolo, moaning.

“It’s you. It’s the person you agree to marry, before you marry them.”

“Earth is weird,” Vegeta said. “But I want to have a big, ridiculous wedding, as they do in the movies. And I want to see you in a tux. Then I want your tux shredded on our bedroom floor when you’re my husband,” Vegeta said. He slid his hands up and down Piccolo’s thighs. “Oh! Look at that, my love, the second one is back!”

Piccolo’s eyes followed the sexy line of Vegeta’s throat to where he was facing with his head cranked back. The heavy gray clouds were still rolling away, the rain they dumped shrouding the horizon, but in front of them, even brighter than before, was the double rainbow.

Vegeta curled up and kissed him as they made love more languidly. “A sign, perhaps, that the second time can be better than the first, yes?” Vegeta pulled Piccolo’s hand to his mouth and kissed the engagement ring. “You’re my little emerald.”

Piccolo chuckled and turned his hand to hold Vegeta’s jaw as he kissed him more. He grinned as he murmured, “Does that make you my _big_ sapphire?”

“Mmm…I’m big where it matters. We’re a tiny rainbow.”

“Yeah, baby, we are a tiny rainbow. Now shut up and fuck your future husband,” Piccolo whispered, and Vegeta did, their tiny rainbow outlasting the bigger twin rainbows in the sky.


	5. New Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A follow-up to the Somewhere Under the Rainbow, Piccolo and Vegeta tie the knot. Pure fluff and smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alien biology ahead. Piccolo can reproduce/fuck as both male and female in my hc and my hc Piccolo bits are a part of this fic.

Piccolo gaped at his fiancé, unsure he’d heard him correctly. “Vegeta…we…what?”

“I want to wear whatever Nameks traditionally wear for their mating ceremonies,” Vegeta said casually as he finished cooking dinner. 

Piccolo leaned on the counter next to him, glass of wine in hand, third glass of wine, because it turned out that big weddings were stressful to plan. Piccolo had begun to think maybe eloping was the way to go. The waiting was also killing him. They’d been engaged four months already. But there was no eloping now, Trunks, Bulma, and Gohan, of all people, were all deeply invested in the wedding. More invested than Piccolo, who was still wary of his own good fortune, so he wondered if part of his stress about the wedding was whether it would happen at all.

Gohan had become some kind of crazy wedding planner, which meant he and Bulma often went toe to toe about trivial shit like what pattern of china to rent for the reception, when Piccolo didn’t even know that was the sort of thing people picked for weddings. Didn’t they just get…plates? Piccolo often ended up backing slowly into the nearest copse of trees and flying away when Gohan and Bulma disagreed about the myriad details that had to be decided. Just so many decisions.

Vegeta dreaded the guest part of the actual wedding, but he thrived on the decision making leading up to the wedding. Bossiness and an assumption he was right came pretty naturally to Vegeta. Piccolo was grateful at times for Vegeta’s decisiveness, but others, he wanted to scream and shake his little betrothed and tell him to just give Piccolo two seconds of quiet to think. Instead, they had a lot of hot, almost-angry sex. And that was a good compromise.

Piccolo drained the glass. Four glasses was his hard limit. But he was considering softening it. “I don't even _know_ what Nameks wear for their ceremonies.”

“I do, don’t you remember what Gohan and Dende wore at their wedding?”

“No. I got wrecked pretty early on because I was having a bad day…missing…you. And you looked so hot in your suit that I mostly looked at you,” Piccolo said with a little grin and a kiss on Vegeta’s cheek. 

Vegeta chuckled. “Well I do. You can wear a tux, you’re an Earthling. But I’ll be your Namek bride.”

“Then shouldn’t I wear, I dunno, whatever a Saiyan would wear at their public ceremony?” Piccolo wrapped himself around Vegeta from behind and busied his mouth with Vegeta’s neck instead of more wine. “Because for the _real_ ceremony, I want you in nothing.”

“Not even some sexy lingerie? For our honeymoon?” Vegeta said and let his head drop off to the side while he turned off the stove. 

Piccolo took advantage and sucked hard on Vegeta’s neck. "You can wear whatever you want to start, but I won’t be held responsible for anything that gets destroyed in the course of me wrecking you as husband and husband for the first time.”

“I do like the sound of that,” Vegeta said and turned into Piccolo’s mouth. “Not too long now.”

“Maybe to you. I’m ready to be married now,” Piccolo whispered and bit Vegeta suggestively.

“I think you’re ready to be _mated_ , my love, more than you're ready to be married,” Vegeta purred and stole Piccolo’s mouth again. “Let’s eat. Then I have a different sort of eating I’d like to do tonight.”

* * *

Piccolo left Vegeta’s wedding attire up to Vegeta. He decided to do a little research on his own though and with Bulma’s help, they created the formal armor and cape that they believed would have been similar to what Vegeta would have worn to be married if Vegeta-sei hadn’t been destroyed by Frieza. Piccolo felt strangely grateful to Frieza, knowing that likely without the destruction of both Vegeta’s home-world and his own, they never would have found each other.

Piccolo’s nerves ate at him the closer they got. Vegeta wanted the ceremony to be Earthling in form, but honoring both of their heritages. Dende helped arrange for some traditional Namek foods and Vegeta worked with the catering company to make sure there were some Saiyan delicacies too. Dende agreed to perform their ceremony and Piccolo was relieved they wouldn’t have to involve an outside human since neither he nor Vegeta gave a shit about legal technicalities.

The guest list they left up to Bulma and she seemed able to find every person that had ever even come across Vegeta or Piccolo’s paths. Piccolo felt like half the population of New Namek would be at his wedding, and half of that group still resented him merging with Nail. It was not stress he wanted.

When the day finally arrived, it was gorgeous and sunny. There would be no rainbows that day. Piccolo spent the morning pacing and trying to meditate with Gohan, who would be his best man. Bulma was Vegeta’s maid of honor. Piccolo and Vegeta agreed not to see each other that day and Vegeta slept at Capsule Corp the night before. Piccolo felt strange being so unsettled and unable to seek Vegeta for comfort. He smiled, thinking how quickly he’d gotten used to relying on Vegeta, to having the little Saiyan back in his life.

Gohan said, “Piccolo, why are you so nervous? It’s gonna be great. He’s going to cry when he sees you.”

“I don’t want to make him cry!” Piccolo screeched.

“Good cry. Lots of people cry at their weddings. It’s a big deal.”

“What if he changes his mind? What if last night, away from me, he realized that it’s a bad idea?”

“Jeez, Piccolo, that’s not going to happen—“

Before more of that discussion could happen, there was a soft knock and Dende told them it was time. Piccolo took a few deep breaths and looked at himself in the mirror one last time. The battlesuit, because Saiyans always wore a battlesuit, was black and sleeveless. The armor was similar to what Vegeta wore when he first came to Earth, but without the hip and crotch guards. The pauldrons weren’t quite so wide, and they and the belly panel were a rich, metallic copper that Bulma was very proud of manufacturing. A dark, blood-red velvet cape draped off his shoulders, the clasp an infinity symbol, wrought in the same dark metal as his ring, an emerald and a sapphire in the loops. A matching belt adorned his waist. The black gauntlets trimmed with the same copper as the armor were as close as Piccolo could tolerate to wearing gloves.

Piccolo thought the circlet that Bulma insisted on was a bit much, but she said that whoever married the Prince of All Saiyans would wear such a thing. It was simple, copper like his armor plating, a smooth band, dipping down almost between his brow ridges, and the infinity symbol adorned the center where it widened into a scoop-sided triangle. Piccolo lined his eyes in kohl and wide copper cuffs hugged the long edges of his ears, his only two nods to his own Namekian heritage.

He turned to Gohan, blinking back his tears. “I look okay?”

“You look hot,” Gohan said with a grin, “Now let’s get out there.

Bulma demanded the wedding be at Capsule Corp, and she had gone all out. The lush green grass was scattered with white rose petals from the base of the patio steps all the way to the alter, which was a massive arch, woven with flowers of every color under the sun. It was beautiful. Dende stood in his Kami robes, waiting for Piccolo and Gohan, who wore a much simpler version of the Saiyan armor Piccolo wore. They strutted down the aisle with no fanfare to take their places. Piccolo faced the rows of guests staring at him, the beautiful flowers on the ends of rows of chairs, and he watched the doors for Vegeta to appear.

Vegeta prodded Piccolo almost daily about who should walk down the aisle and who should wait. Piccolo, finally, after much equivocation, admitted that he liked the idea of watching Vegeta walk toward him to begin their lives together. Vegeta agreed so enthusiastically that Piccolo stopped worrying about it. Until now. He turned his back to the crowd and muttered to Gohan, “I’m going to lose my shit. I’m about to cry. Help me not cry.”

“It’s okay to cry at your wedding, Piccolo,” Gohan said, shrugging.

“We can’t both be blubbering! I’ll never get my vows out. He wants this, right?”

“Uh, yeah, so much, you dummy. He’s stupid in love with you. Remember, gave up being a deity to be with you?” Gohan said.

“That’s not helping!”

“What do you want me to say!?”

“You’re my best man, figure something out!”

“Pull yourself together, you sniveling brat!” Gohan growled in his pathetic impression of Piccolo’s voice, quoting one of Piccolo’s favored phrases from his time training Gohan in the wilderness.

Piccolo laughed and took a few deep breaths. “Okay. Good job. Yeah. I don’t want to be a sniveling brat.”

The music started and Piccolo turned back toward the main house. Gohan fussed with Piccolo’s cape. He almost crossed his arms, just to look as “grumpy Saiyan” as possible, but instead folded his hands in front of his dick, since the battlesuit was more revealing than most things Piccolo wore. No wonder Piccolo never stopped thinking about fucking around Vegeta, the man was constantly clad in spandex, showing off his perfect ass and his delectable bulge. 

“Holy fucking shit, look how gorgeous he is,” Piccolo breathed as Vegeta IT’d to the steps with Bulma. The gown was white layers of chiffon layered over a base of charmeuse, the waist was cinched with a belt of the same copper as Piccolo’s armor; the same infinity symbol as the buckle. His arms were bare, because the billowy sleeves split at the shoulder before reconnecting with ornate copper filigree at his wrists, the center of the wrist bands covering the back of his hands and wrapping around the base of his middle fingers.

The cowled neck dipped low and Piccolo could see most of Vegeta’s pecs. When Vegeta turned to whisper something to Bulma, Piccolo saw it scooped extremely low in the back, the fabric pooling just above the beautiful curve of Vegeta’s ass, but leaving it perfectly displayed in the clingy white fabric. Piccolo’s breathing hitched as Vegeta began to walk toward him, the skirt of the dress flowing behind him like pale, clean smoke.

Above his circlet, which matched Piccolo’s, Vegeta had gardenias braided into his hair, following the line of copper. Vegeta wore a wide collar of copper, again adorned with their symbol. Piccolo’s eyes finally lit on Vegeta’s face, radiant on its own, but even more so with glittery, coppery eye makeup. Piccolo’s eyes filled with the momentousness of Vegeta becoming his. That this was what Vegeta wanted. That Vegeta gave up everything to come and spend the rest of his mortal life with Piccolo.

Vegeta’s gaze lifted and his mouth dropped open. It was clear he hadn’t seen Piccolo until that moment. His steps faltered and Piccolo saw him say, _Holy shit_. Piccolo’s mouth hitched up in a dumbstruck half-smile. He knew Vegeta would look amazing no matter what he wore, but it felt amazing to see that he effected Vegeta in turn.

Vegeta reached him and Bulma moved to her place behind him. Piccolo took both of Vegeta’s powerful in his own much larger hands, enfolding them. Vegeta whispered, “You look fan-fucking-tastic.”

“Likewise, baby. You look stunning,” Piccolo said, almost unable to resist his urge to kiss Vegeta. He contented himself with staring into Vegeta’s fiery, dark eyes, and the thought of finally being married and mated to the man he’d loved most of his life made Piccolo tremble.

The ceremony after that was a blur. Piccolo said his vows with ease, only a little teary-eyed, and Vegeta half-sobbed his way through his, as Vegeta had always been on the leaky side. When Dende declared them husband and husband, Piccolo bent and hooked an arm under Vegeta’s ass, hoisted him up, and kissed him deeply. Vegeta held his face and as the crowd of mostly almost strangers cheered, they grinned against each other's lips. Piccolo’s antennae skimmed across Vegeta’s forehead, and relief washed over Piccolo that all he found there was love and joy.

Piccolo knew that the polite thing to do at a wedding was to mingle and talk to one’s guests and that if the couple split up, they could cover more ground. Yet he and Vegeta had always stuck together at gatherings like this, even when they weren’t a couple, so they almost couldn’t help the way they stayed close, fingers laced together, and Vegeta occasionally whispering naughty things at Namek levels. It scandalized any Namekian guests that happened to be nearby.

Vegeta enjoyed the reception with Saiyan gusto and soon, between him and the other Saiyans, there wasn’t a single morsel of food left. Except the cake. The cake looked like something that H.P. Lovecraft and Sauron had baked together. It had whorls of black and red icing, deep red camellias exquisitely rendered out of sugar, and for whatever bizarre reason, black spikes around the edges of each of the tiers. It was enormous and on the top set on an infinity symbol pedestal propped on spikes that looked a little bloody, Piccolo thought, were two custom made grooms. Piccolo and Vegeta in chibi form, each in traditional Earthling wedding attire.

“My love, why does it look like an evil Namekian spacecraft?” Vegeta asked as he approached the cake for the cutting.

“I have no idea. Bulma said that Gohan and Trunks could manage the cake since they both liked to eat so much. This is apparently what happens when you let Gohan and Trunks be in charge of shit,” Piccolo said. He spread his hand on Vegeta’s bare lower back and Vegeta leaned back against it.

Cutting into the cake was also a surprise because they’d gone with red velvet cake, so it felt a little like murdering some kind of large arthropod. As they readied to feed each other a small piece, Vegeta smirked and said, “Well, this takes me back to my soldiering days.”

Piccolo laughed and put a piece of cake in his husband’s mouth, trying not to get excited as Vegeta lasciviously sucked his fingers. “I had hoped our wedding wouldn’t be reminiscent of your days under Frieza,” Piccolo whispered.

Vegeta fed Piccolo and said, “It isn’t, because now I can spend my days under _you._ ”

The guests warily took pieces of the dead Chtulu cake, and Vegeta pulled Piccolo toward the dance floor. He said, “You look amazing, my love, but the cape means I don’t get to properly enjoy your ass in Saiyan uniform.”

“I’m never wearing one of these battle-suits again. It shows everything! I feel like people can see my fucking foreskin.”

“I wish, but they can’t. They can see that I’m a lucky man, because there’s no hiding that bulge, but they can't see the _details_. You sure you don’t want to take the cape off for your husband?”

“How about after our first dance I’ll take it off?”

“I hope you’ll take more than that off soon,” Vegeta said and clandestinely ran a hand over Piccolo’s crotch.

Piccolo swung Vegeta against his body and curled down to kiss him, murmuring, “Stop that, dear husband, or I’ll go change into my gi. And I think you like seeing me decked out as Saiyan royalty.”

Vegeta slid his hands onto Piccolo’s ass, using the cape for cover. They kissed for a while. When they pulled apart, Vegeta whispered, “I do like it. I can’t wait to make you my king.”

Piccolo decided it was a good time to make a sneaky exit, but Bulma approached them and said, “Hey, you two, I see that look in your eyes, you can't leave before the first dance.” 

Vegeta hugged Piccolo against him, glaring at Bulma, and said, “Woman, I’m tired of waiting to consummate my marriage. Make the dance happen now or I’ll do it _on_ the dance floor.”

Piccolo appreciated that Bulma didn’t question whether Vegeta would actually do that or not, because Piccolo didn’t think he was bluffing and that wasn’t really how he wanted things to go down on his wedding night. Piccolo led Vegeta onto the dance floor and they proceeded to perform the dance they’d practiced. It went perfectly and Piccolo enjoyed looking around at the flabbergasted crowd. It was clear no one had expected them to actually dance. Which was half the reason they had done it. Dancing came pretty naturally to them both as just a less injurious form of martial arts.

After almost deafening silence, the whole crowd started clapping and cheering. Vegeta smirked and said, in a commanding, very princely voice, “Thank you all for coming, but we’re off to continue our celebration privately!” He took Piccolo’s hand, and IT’d them away.

When they rematerialized, Piccolo had no idea where they were. The air was so cold that even Piccolo shivered, and he was nearly impervious to cold. It was full dark, but above them bands of green aurora borealis slinked across the sky like celestial eels. Vegeta led Piccolo into what looked like a glass igloo.

Piccolo ducked to get inside, and it was shockingly warm. There was a large bed in the center of the room, a bathroom off to one side, and a little kitchenette on the other. Outside, on the far side, there was a big hot tub, so they could soak and look up at the northern lights or the stars.

Vegeta unclasped Piccolo’s cape and let it drop to the floor. He slid his hand up onto Piccolo’s jaw and floated up to kiss him. His lips tugged at Piccolo’s lower lip, encouraging him to open his mouth. Piccolo’s mouth was always compliant with Vegeta, and it welcomed his tongue.

Piccolo unhooked the belt around Vegeta’s waist, kissing his husband more frantically. Vegeta took Piccolo’s belt off too and shoved the armor up over his head, reluctantly breaking the kiss to do so. Piccolo ran his hands up Vegeta’s bare arms and popped the little pearl buttons that held the shoulders of his gown together. It dropped down around his hips without the belt, hanging on his ass and hands. Piccolo lifted one arm and kissed down the inside to his wrist. He unfastened the pretty metalwork, eased it over Vegeta’s finger, before doing the same on the other arm, leaving Vegeta in a tight white lace teddy, complete with garters and stockings.

Piccolo held Vegeta by the hips and stepped back to look at him where he floated like some kind of impostor angel because the ethereal lace contrasted with Vegeta’s unholy body and dark, sexy smirk. His cock was already hard and bound under the lace, pointing upward. Piccolo yanked him against his body, which felt naked because, Piccolo had to hand it to Saiyan battle-suits, they felt like wearing nothing. But Piccolo was nervous about removing it, because he wasn't sure what Vegeta would think about one of the wedding presents he’d gotten for his new husband.

Vegeta kissed Piccolo and crawled his fingers up under the battle suit top. Piccolo took a deep breath and helped Vegeta pull it off. Vegeta kissed along his jaw and down his neck and onto his pec before he noticed. His head snapped back away like Piccolo had shocked him. He gaped at Piccolo’s left pec, over his heart.

“What…how…when, my love?” Vegeta said, staring wide-eyed at the tattoo of his family crest spread on the big green expanse of Piccolo’s pectoral muscle. He traced his fingers over it.

“I had it done last night after you left. I figured with Namek healing it would be okay today. Do…do you like it?”

“Fuck. I love it. It looks so sexy on you,” Vegeta said and used his mouth to taste every dark line.

Piccolo pulled Vegeta’s mouth back up to his and eagerly waited for the second present, which should be happening at any moment. As if triggered by his thoughts, the sky, even the aurora, went completely black. Vegeta noticed and his head rolled back to look up. “What the fuck? Who would be using the dragon balls right now? I swear if someone fucks up my wedding night with some villainous shit I will—“ Vegeta’s words cut off abruptly as he shrieked and Piccolo heard the soft sound of lace ripping.

Piccolo slid his hands onto Vegeta’s lace-clad ass and squeezed, waiting for Vegeta’s shock to wane. His little husband panted as his tail shot out, growing fur as it unfurled from his body like a time-lapse video it was so fast. He clung to Piccolo, pressing his face against the new tattoo. 

It ended as abruptly as it began and Vegeta caught his breath against Piccolo. He gasped out, “What…what just happened?”

“Happy…wedding? I don’t know. I wanted to do something special for you. A surprise. So I told Gohan to make the wish once we left.”

“You…you did this?” Vegeta said, turning to look at his own tail.

Doubt filled Piccolo. Vegeta’s tone was not…happy. He stammered, “I…You…Baby…You…You always talk about missing it. Do you…do you not want it back?”

When Vegeta’s dark gaze fell on him, Piccolo knew he’d misread Vegeta’s tone. Vegeta slammed into Piccolo, hurling him down onto the bed. He whipped Piccolo’s pants off and dove between Piccolo’s legs. His hot, hungry mouth covered Piccolo’s _theadur_ , his tongue thrusting into Piccolo without hesitation. Piccolo’s fingers threaded into Vegeta’s hair, knocking flowers loose, filling the igloo with the sweet scent of crushed gardenias. The tropical scent in the snowy landscape felt surreal.

“Baby…” Piccolo groaned as Vegeta took hold of Piccolo’s cock, smearing his pre-cum around his tip so he could slide his hand more easily. Piccolo’s whole body thrummed for Vegeta, like it couldn’t wait anymore to mate with him. “Baby, I want your dick in me. I want to be yours. Please…”

Vegeta growled at him in Saiyan and kissed and bit his way up Piccolo’s body, still stroking his prick. He crushed Piccolo’s mouth with his and Piccolo shredded the lingerie, tossing it off the bed. Vegeta moved his hand onto his own prick and aligned himself. He drove into Piccolo’s sheath so slowly that Piccolo was begging by the time Vegeta was finally seated inside him. Piccolo’s skin lit up like he was an extension of the aurora and Vegeta purred, “You’re so beautiful. A gift from the universe.”

They had never fucked this way. It was Namek tradition to save one’s sheath for a mate, knowing that it wasn’t just sex, it created a magic bond. If Vegeta came inside him, he would likely get pregnant. They hadn’t explicitly discussed having children, but Piccolo hoped Vegeta wanted them. He hoped they could start their family that night, but Vegeta was enough.

Piccolo curled up to kiss his husband as Vegeta started to move inside him. “Piccolo, sweet fucking gods, you feel incredible. I love you so much. Alright? Feels good?”

“Fuck yes, Vegeta. Oh gods. Your prick fits me perfectly.”

“Mmm, yes, it does. Which is good, because you’re fucking _mine_ ,” Vegeta said and his tail coiled around Piccolo’s thigh, squeezing in time with Vegeta’s slow, deep thrusts. Vegeta’s mouth wandered over Piccolo’s torso, but kept returning to the tattoo.

“Do you like your wedding presents, baby?” Piccolo breathed, barely able to form words his pleasure was becoming so intense.

“Yes, my love. You’re too good to me. I…I didn’t think to get you anything. What would you like? What would make you happy?”

Piccolo stared into Vegeta’s eyes and said softly, “I think you know what would make me happy.”

Vegeta smirked and kissed Piccolo before whispering, “Shall I put a baby in you then?”

Piccolo couldn’t control his big grin. “If…if you want a baby with me…”

“I do. I want everything with you, Piccolo,” Vegeta said and caressed his face. He kissed him again.

“Then that’s what I want for my wedding present,” Piccolo said, holding Vegeta’s cake ass in his hands, thinking how perfectly every part of Vegeta fit Piccolo.

Vegeta drove into him harder, kissing him deeply. Piccolo’s hips rocked up to meet his mate’s. Vegeta’s tail slid up and down Piccolo’s thigh, finally slithering off it to wrap around his cock, bringing him such sudden, intense pleasure that he shouted, “Oh fuck, baby, your tail is making me come!”

Vegeta smirked against his lips and said, “Come for me, my husband, my mate.” He slammed into Piccolo and Piccolo’s muscles tensed and released, cum rocketing out of him as his sheath came too, gripping and rippling up and down Vegeta’s cock. Vegeta cried out and his ass tightened in Piccolo’s hand. Vegeta’s cock pulsed deep in Piccolo’s core and his seed filled him. A secondary wave of ecstasy surged through Piccolo’s body, visible as the bioluminescence of his skin brightened.

Piccolo cried out in surprise as Vegeta’s skin flared to life with golden light. Vegeta growled, “You’re _mine_.” He bit Piccolo’s right pec, sinking his teeth through the skin and into the muscle. Somehow Piccolo’s body managed to find more pleasure, more euphoria, and he came hard again, his cock splattering them, his sheath milking Vegeta, taking more from him. 

Vegeta released Piccolo’s pec and after a single lick to clean some of the blood, Piccolo roughly nudged his head up and out of the way. He curled and bit Vegeta back, the coppery taste of his blood sending more powerful aftershocks of pleasure through his body. He whimpered around Vegeta’s flesh, and when he finally withdrew his teeth, he purred, “You’re mine, Vegeta. My prince. My love.”

They laid together, kissing, bleeding, and glowing, under the light of the aurora, having joined themselves under their three cultures. Piccolo loved that they had acknowledged their heritages, but that by marrying and honeymooning as Earthlings, they were creating something new together. A whole new set of traditions for the spark of new life that Piccolo felt inside himself.


	6. Perfect Sweetness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks and Goten spend a drunken evening deciding whether to kiss the Blarney stone.

Trunks stared at the rock that stank so thoroughly of human piss that there was no way he was ever going to put his lips to it. Unless the legend was true. Trunks had seen enough crazy shit in his life to never really discount anything as nonsense out of hand. It had been a conundrum Trunks’s entire life: the scientist in him said that there was always an explanation for everything, but the part of him that had fought what was essentially the world’s most powerful piece of bubble gum, never immediately dismissed things that seemed absurd. Trunks’s whole life had been filled with absurdity.

“So, you gonna kiss it or what, man?” Goten said, tipping his flask up and swallowing quite a lot of whiskey with a wince. Trunks swallowed too, but for different reasons. The line of Goten’s throat above his tight green tank top was filling Trunks with a real desire to kiss the Blarney stone and see if it really gave the silver tongue legends alleged.

“I dunno. Are you?” Trunks said, wondering if his friend had any desire to improve his sweet-talking skills.

Goten shrugged. Goten was much drunker than Trunks, though Trunks had left sober behind long ago. “I dunno. It's only supposed to make you like…eloquent? Does eloquence really befit a Son?” He chortled drunkenly. “Why do you want it anyway? You already have a divine tongue,” Goten said and startled the shit out of Trunks by pressing a finger to Trunks’s lips.

“I…well…I’m, um, wouldn’t it help me talk someone into…into dating me?” Trunks said.

Goten fell on his back on the stone battlements beside the iron bars humans used to reach the stone. He laughed and laughed to the point that Trunks was getting irritated with his sexy best friend. Goten’s tight skinny jeans made his lower half look as fantastic as his mostly bare upper body. “Trunks, you fucking doofus. Adding that skill to you is like putting sugar on Lucky Charms—don’t fuck with perfect sweetness. Is that seriously why you made me fly all the way to Ireland with you in the middle of the night on St. Patty’s day? We could still be at a _bar_ picking up chicks.”

Trunks chewed his lower lip. This was the time. This was the moment. He needed to do this. He arched his back and lowered himself upside down and grazed his lips over the Blarney stone. Goten watched with obvious, surprised curiosity. Words spilled haphazardly out of Trunks, “What if, but, so, just…what if, say, say I don’t, um, that’s not, like, what if I don’t want…you know…like…um…it’s just—“

“Trunks, dude, I don’t think it worked. Maybe you have to _French_ kiss the Blarney stone to make it work,” Goten said and sat up to chug the rest of his flask.

Trunks started to speak, trying to come out again, but Goten cut him off with a casual shrug, “Or you could find a better option to French kiss than a piss-covered stone. I bet it’s not all that enjoyable to tongue. And it can’t tongue you back,” Goten paused and his eyes rose up to meet Trunks. He gave Trunks a wicked little smirk and said, “But I could.”

Trunks felt fire roar from his chest, up his neck, and across his cheeks. “W-w-what?”

Goten crawled across the stone floor, swaying drunkenly, until Trunks had to lean back on his hands where he sat. Goten was half above him. “Sometimes, we go out and you start flirting with some girl, and I watch you, and it seems almost like you _want_ to fail. Like you’ll be so smooth, and then when you could clinch the deal and take her home, you just whiff. But you whiff so hard that it feels a little like you’re throwing the fight. Why is that? Why do I always feel like you don’t want to go home with chicks, Trunks? You’re charming and sexy and smart and fun and rich, there’s just not a single fucking reason you can’t have any girl you click with, so why? Why haven’t you?”

Trunks wasn’t just ineloquent, he was speechless. After a long moment of Goten’s eyes boring in his soul, Trunks squeaked, “I…well…I…I wingman for you. Right? You…you always find someone. Right?”

“Sure. But I don’t need you to wingman me. I do just fine when I go out on my own.”

“W-when you go-go alone? Where do you go out alone? I didn’t know you went out alone,” Trunks said. Had he imagined that Goten offered to kiss him? With tongue, no less. How had that gotten left behind in their discussion?

“To gay bars. When I’m not in the mood for pussy, I go pick up a guy. And until I started watching you when we were out with girls, I didn’t think that you’d want to wingman me at gay bars, but I realized that I have never once seen you leave with a girl.”

“You always leave first!” Trunks protested. It was a stupid thing to say, because it didn’t matter whether Goten had seen it or not. It was true. Trunks was a flaming virgin. A gay virgin, but nobody knew that. Except the poor girl he had made out with once years ago, in high school, enduring the humiliating experience of not getting hard for her. He hadn’t said the words to her, but she seemed to understand and not take it personally. 

Goten touched Trunks’s jaw and said, “I don’t think me leaving first has anything to do with it.”

“I…’Ten…I…I didn’t know you picked up guys,” Trunks said quietly, trying to deflect. He didn’t know why, Goten had just come out to him as bi quite casually, so he wouldn’t care that Trunks was gay. Trunks intended to come out to Goten tonight anyway, but to _straight_ Goten. Then he wouldn’t have to pretend anymore when they went out. But finding out Goten was bi complicated Trunks’s feelings on the matter. Now when he came out, he would have…hope…that Goten might see him as a prospect. That Goten might _want_ him. He knew it was unlikely, so he almost wanted to continue pretending to be straight to avoid that heartache. He already had so much heartache from being in love with his sweet best friend for so long. 

Goten traced Trunks’s jawline with his fingers. “Yeah, I pick up guys. What were you trying to say, Trunks? When the Blarney stone failed you? What made you splutter and stammer like that?”

Goten’s eyes were not on Trunks’s eyes, they were on his lips. Trunks couldn’t stand it, he had to try. He leaned forward, closing the few inches between them, and his lips crashed against Goten’s with more force than he’d intended, but he was pent up. And scared. And hopeful. 

Trunks didn’t want to pull a Vegeta and cry, so he took a deep breath through his nose. As he did so, Goten’s mouth opened for him. His hand slid back to cup the base of Trunks’s skull, his fingers grazing over the shaven part up to the messy bun he had tied back because he’d been too lazy to do more than buzz the bottom the past year or so. Trunks’s tongue hesitantly invaded Goten's mouth, but Goten’s met his, tasting him, and Goten _moaned_.

Trunks panted at that sound. At the thought of making Goten make more noises like that. Trunks wondered if he could do things that would make Goten moan his name. The thought was intoxicating. Goten sat on his heels in front of Trunks. Trunks fluttered his hands up Goten’s thighs and gripped his ass, urging him to straddle Trunks’s lap. Goten moved easily, rocking his hips against Trunks’s experimentally. And he moaned _again_. Trunks could die happy after hearing that sound.

“‘Ten…” Trunks murmured against his best friend’s lips, palming his ass more assertively and helping Goten frot with him. Trunks wondered what Goten would do if he just tore off all their clothes.

Goten’s drunken fingers were already fumbling up the buttons of Trunks’s tacky, shamrock-covered shirt. He shoved at it, leaving Trunks in a green wife-beater like Goten’s. Goten muttered, “Fuck this,” and ripped it off in one fluid motion, dropping the tatters beside them and doing the same with his own. 

He trailed his hands over the bare skin of Trunks’s torso and plunged down into the back of his pants, inside his boxer briefs, and held Trunks’s ass in his hands. Goten ground their crotches together, an almost constant stream of noises mixing with the sounds of their kissing. His hands skimmed around the top of Trunks’s jeans and unbuttoned them, unzipped them, shoved at them.

“Stand up,” Goten growled. Trunks obeyed, working on Goten’s fly as they rose to their feet together. Goten grumbled, “Fucking skinny jeans. Have to shred them too.”

Trunks hurriedly pushed his own jeans down and kicked them off, not wanting to be stuck in the middle of Ireland with no pants. Goten followed suit, but wore nothing underneath so his glorious prick strained into the air, dripping pre-cum in the moonlight. Trunks still wore boxer-briefs, but he hurriedly shed them. He dropped to his knees and gripped Goten’s cock so he could suck the head, lick up the pre-cum that rolled down the underside, and taste Goten’s slit.

Goten’s moans got even better and Trunks knew he was addicted. He would want to hear Goten moan for him every single day. Multiple times per day. He would never have enough of it. “Yeah? You like that, ‘Ten?”

“Fuck, Trunks, you look so hot sucking my dick,” Goten whispered as Trunks slid his mouth down the length of Goten’s cock, utilizing his Saiyan lack of gag reflex to be able to take all of Goten’s considerable length. “Oh fuck, I…Fuck, Trunks, you’re fucking incredible…” Goten’s head lolled back and Trunks started to pump up and down Goten’s shaft, using his hand to maximize friction. He wanted to get Goten off, he had wanted this for so long, and he wanted Goten’s first orgasm with him to be in his mouth.

Goten scratched his nails lightly over Trunks’s scalp, purring and moaning Trunks’s name, which drove Trunks wild. Goten’s face turned back down and Trunks made eye contact with him. Goten breathed, “I’m gonna come, beautiful. You want me to come in your mouth?”

Trunks nodded slightly, still mouth-fucking Goten deeply, one hand on his cock, the other palming his firm ass. Goten fisted a hand in Trunks’s hair and screamed as he filled Trunks’s mouth with his giz. “Oh, Trunks, oh gods. You feel so fucking good.” Goten slumped down and pushed Trunks back into a seated position and straddled him. “You gonna fuck me, beautiful?”

Trunks gaped for a minute and spluttered, “I…yeah…yeah…you, um, you want…want me to, um, to do that? _Me_?”

Goten kissed him and undid his bun, his hair spilling everywhere. Wisps of it lifted in the breeze so Trunks saw them as they tickled Goten’s face. He leaned in to kiss Trunks. “I’ve wanted you to fuck me for forever, Trunks.”

Trunks’s mouth savaged Goten’s, his tongue taking everything from his best friend. Goten made more delightful noises as they could finally really frot, skin against skin. Trunks only paused to spit in his hand and coat his cock. Goten did the same and Trunks whispered, “You want me to—“

“I want your dick. Fuck foreplay, I’ve wanted it too long. I want your prick in me now, beautiful,” Goten said and rose up, guiding Trunks’s cock into the tight bliss of his ass.

“Oh fuck, ‘Ten, oh fuck. You’re so tight, baby. I…Holy shit. I want you so badly.”

“Have me, Trunks. Take me. I’m yours,” Goten said, smiling down at Trunks as he continued slowly sinking onto Trunks’s prick.

Trunks gripped Goten’s ass and spread him, bucking up into his best friend. Goten clutched Trunks’s face to his perfect pecs and cried out, “Fuck, yes, oh fuck, I need it. Deep, beautiful, fuck me so deep with your gorgeous thick cock.”

Trunks didn’t want to hurt Goten, but he felt frantic need. He wanted to piston up into Goten and ravish him. “Trunks, more,” Goten moaned as Trunks thrust into him harder, deeper, getting almost all the way into his fantastically tight ass. “More,” Goten moaned again. Trunks pumped into him again before Goten cried, “All the way. All of you. I love you, I need all of you.”

Trunks’s eyes snapped open and met Goten’s. He breathed, “I love you too, ‘Ten. I’m going to fuck you hard, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Goten said, grinning. Trunks got a good hold on his ass and pummeled his love’s prostate, slamming Goten up and down as hard as he could. Every thrust was rewarded not just with how fantastic Goten’s ass felt gripping Trunks’s cock, but with more beautiful noises coming from his mate.

His mate. Trunks knew from Vegeta that some Saiyans pair-bonded very intensely with one person and there was no fighting the impulse. Trunks thought of the miserable way he felt whenever Goten’s chi was with another, the way his mind constantly drifted to what his life would be like if Goten loved him, and now, the feeling of being inside Goten cemented it for Trunks: this was perfection. Bliss. Nirvana. 

“Be my mate, ‘Ten. Be with me. Forever?”

Goten nodded and kissed Trunks through the turbulence of Trunks pistoning into him. “Yeah, forever, Trunks. I love you. Fuck, I’m so close…I want…I want to come together, are you close?”

Trunks purred, “I think if your ass starts twitching on me I won’t be able to help myself. I’m gonna come so deep inside you, baby. My mate. My love.”

Goten bellowed and held himself down hard on Trunk’s lap, taking every millimeter of Trunks’s cock inside himself as he coated them both in cum. His ass spasmed on Trunks and Trunks buried his face in Goten’s chest to scream with ecstasy. His mouth, seemingly with no input from his brain, closed on the thick, beautiful muscle of Goten’s pec, breaking skin and filling Trunks’s mouth with blood.

Renewed pleasure ripped through him and Goten bashed down on his cock again and again. “Yes, oh fuck, oh fuck, I need to do you,” Goten panted.

He rose off Trunks’s prick and smeared his own cum on his cock. “Okay if I dive straight in, beautiful? I want to fuck you so hard. You’ll be okay?” Goten gasped. 

“Yeah, oh gods, yeah, fuck me, ‘Ten!”

Goten drove inside Trunks, his balls slapping against Trunk’s ass. Fireworks of pain and pleasure exploded in Trunks and he scrabbled at Goten, wanting to hold still but have his mate fuck him right through the stone wall. Goten seemed to hear the thought and he gripped the back of Trunks’s knees, pinned them alongside Trunks’s torso, and hammered down into Trunks with such ferocity that the rock started to crumble beneath them. Trunks was pinned so tightly, he couldn’t move at all, he just had to lay and take the powerful thrusts. And it felt fucking amazing.

Goten’s eyes burned into Trunks and he growled, “I’m not going to last, beautiful, I want to mark you.” Goten dropped his mouth onto Trunks’s pec in the mirrored place to Goten’s own wound. He sucked it hard for a long moment and then his teeth cut into the flesh. 

The pain Trunks expected surprised him as fiery pleasure. He breathed, “Oh fuck, yes, I’m coming again, baby!”

Goten held him still by the meat of his chest, an animal rumbling coming from when Trunks tried to move. Goten finished inside him, thrusting fast and hard. His mouth stayed locked on Trunks’s chest until all their aftershocks trembled through them. He opened his mouth and sucked the mark, giving Trunks another thrumming burst of ecstasy.

He collapsed on Trunks and the weight of his body was too much. The rock dislodged, clearly having cracked while they fucked, and they fell with the rubble they’d created. They laughed hard, Trunks wrapping around his mate and slowing their fall. A few more rocks dropped down after them and Trunks dodged them. Goten was still buried in his ass. Trunks said, “I think our pants are still up on the battlements.”

“Mmm…I’m not that interested in pants.”

“I’m not either, but I do kinda want to take you home and keep fucking you until the sun comes up.”

Goten pushed up a little and smiled at him. “I get to fuck you a bit too, right?”

“Hell yeah, that was fucking incredible. I guess the Blarney stone worked,” Trunks said and kissed Goten.

“You were being a gibbering dumbass, dude,” Goten said, laughing.

“But you kissed and fucked and mated with me, so my gibbering must have been pretty appealing. Maybe I was too sweet as Lucky Charms, you needed me to be Rice Krispies or some shit,” Trunks said and gave his mate’s ass a good squeeze. Trunks thought maybe they were both the perfect level of sweetness, and his cares about everything from pants to the destruction of a historical site was pushed from his mind by the kisses of his mate.


End file.
